


there is no better place than right by your side

by dawnsparkler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Drarry, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 97,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnsparkler/pseuds/dawnsparkler
Summary: Harry, Hermione, and Ron are all going back to Hogwarts for their eighth year. When they find out Malfoy's come back, and that Hogwarts is offering an exchange trip to Beauxbatons for three months, who know what the future holds?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 62
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone reading, thank you for taking the time to read my fic! Hope you like it!  
> I do not own any of J. K. Rowling's characters. Also I do not support Rowling, and I do not support her views/opinions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone reading my fic, thank you! I hope you like it! These chapters will jump back and forth between Harry's POV and Draco's, and a TW for this chapter, there is a brief mention of self-harm. Note: I did fix the spacing on the whole fic.

“Mother. For the last time. Stop packing my things, I’m not going!” Draco Malfoy looked apprehensively at his mother, who was elegantly bustling around, packing his school trunk.

“Draco, my darling, you’re already enrolled.” said Narcissa Malfoy, flourishing her wand at a pair of robes, which settled themselves on top of the contents of his trunk. “Besides, you don’t want to be stuck with your mother in house arrest, do you?”

She said this with a smile, though Draco could see the strain on her face, around her eyes. It had been hard on her, on both of them of course, as accustomed as they had been to the reputation of the Malfoy name and money. His father was still in Azkaban, so his absence was another thing out of place. And the trials for all of them had been, to say the least, not enjoyable.

_He’d sat in that cold, chain-wrapped chair in front of the Wizengamot as they shifted and murmured to each other. And why would they not? He was the son of a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater. Draco kept his face expressionless, as was his talent. He knew so many of them would love to see him carted off with his father. Hell, he deserved it. Deserved worse._

“Draco?” His mother gazed at him with a worried expression. He had a feeling she knew what had gone through his head. He had never been able to hide anything from her, even as a boy.

“I’d much prefer being here with you than back at that place, Mother,” he replied. “It’s not like they want me there.”

“Darling, trust me. Besides, your friends will be there with you. It will be good for you to not be alone.”

“I’m fine being alone.” he muttered, fidgeting with his wand, fingers moving over the well-worn wood. It was true. He’d shut himself up in his bedroom most of the summer, or wandered the grounds by himself, which had worried his mother.

As for his friends, well, he knew he couldn’t count on them. Blaise, Pansy, he knew how they thought, how much their families were like his own. And he knew that they had most likely been told to cease contact with him, as his own father would have ordered him to do if one of them was in his current position. But Draco said nothing, letting his mother imagine a happy school year for him. It was the least he could do for her.

He knew his return to Hogwarts would not be pleasant. He knew he would be hated, and whispered about. But he was already used to that. Plenty of it had occurred this summer whenever he had needed to leave the house. It didn’t help that he had to have Aurors accompany him everywhere he went.

His mother sighed and levitated his school trunk, making her way down the drafty entrance hall of their manor. Draco trailed along behind her, casting a disdainful eye upon the neglected surroundings. With just himself and his mother and no house-elf, only the parts of the home that they lived in were kept in their former glory. The rest of the manor, like this hall, was dusty and dimly lit.

_He heard the snake coming towards him. A whispering sound, as the powerful body coiled on the floor of the entry hall, scales sliding forward. Draco shrank back from the fangs, the staring eye of the serpent. Normally he liked snakes, as they were a mark of Slytherin. This snake, however, signified something else. Someone else._

“Come along, Draco,” called his mother, snapping him back to the present. He walked to her side and glimpsed the outside lawn, to the Aurors waiting under a gray sky to bring him to the school train. He felt a great dislike for them, for the shame of being walked to the train like a dog. But he was Draco Malfoy, ex Death Eater, and of course could not be trusted out of house arrest by himself. Narcissa set down his trunk and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at Christmas, darling.”

“Yes, Mother.” he answered dutifully. Draco could only imagine what the Aurors thought of all this. The young man with blond hair and a dark suit saying goodbye to his mother, who was living in a shell of a home. He wondered if their eyes were drawn to his covered forearm, if they could see the memories flitting like ghosts behind his eyes. If they hated him, as he hated himself.

As he walked towards the Aurors over the damp grass, he felt the mask slide down. With his mother, he’s just Draco. Not a Death Eater, not hated, just a boy. With everyone else, he’s Draco Malfoy. The bully, the traitor. It had to be this way, for he knew the vulnerable side of him would be shredded if it was revealed. His father had taught him that.

Draco nodded to the Aurors and grasped the handle of his trunk. As the two wizards stood on either side of him in preparation to Apparate, they took his arms. He had to fight the urge to tear free from their grips. A second later he felt the gut-twisting sensation and just before he disappeared, looked to his mother standing in front of Malfoy Manor, a solitary figure swallowed by a greater shadow.

....

“Harry, dear, are you ready to leave?” Andromeda Tonks addressed the lone figure standing by the window, idly making smoke rings with his wand as he gazed at the waving grasses behind the house.

“Oh-yes,” he said, turning to face her. “I’ll be right down.” She smiled and left, and he heard her footsteps as she descended the stairs, then the happy gurgles of Teddy Lupin. Harry turned to his closed trunk, sitting on the neatly made bed, and lifted it down onto the wooden floor.

At the beginning of the summer he had been invited to stay with the Weasley’s. As much as he normally loved spending time at the Burrow, playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny in the back field, and enjoying Molly Weasley’s cooking; Harry had known that he did not want to burden the grieving family, as much as they protested it would be welcome. He had thought it best to leave them be for the summer, although he still had sent letters to Ron.

He had been pondering getting his own place, since he would be graduating soon enough, but then he had gotten a second invitation- from the grandmother of his godson, Teddy Lupin.

Andromeda had welcomed him, not just because he was Harry Potter, but because he was godfather to Teddy and therefore she considered him family. The very first time he had seen her, when he had crash-landed in her garden with Hagrid, he had thought her to be Bellatrix and only a few seconds later he had seen that it was not her. Now he knew that Andromeda Tonks and her sister were very much different, and she had become something like an aunt to him in the three months he had stayed with her and the baby Teddy.

Those three months had been blessedly peaceful, but Harry had stayed up in his room, thinking on many things. Grieving, for one. He felt sometimes as if he would never be able to look back on the memories of the fallen without feeling as if the Whomping Willow had socked him in the stomach. They never left his thoughts.

“Harry, you’ll be late!” called Andromeda. Harry shook these thoughts from his head and brought down his school trunk, joining Andromeda downstairs. She’s holding Teddy, who’s hair was bright pink at the moment, and passed him over to Harry. He gave Teddy a hug and dropped a kiss onto his head then set him down on the sofa; where he looked up at Harry, waving his chubby fists as his hair changed from pink to silver. Harry smiled, mussing up Teddy’s hair gently.

“Alright Harry, now you go first and I’ll follow you with Teddy.”

Harry nodded and stood his trunk on its side. He paused for a second as his eye caught on a photo that Andromeda kept by the sofa, a shot of Tonks and Remus at their wedding. As they smile cheerfully in the photo, Harry looked away. It's painful to see them, alive and whole, in the photo, and to realize that they, like Fred, were gone. And he, Harry, was left.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. Like the Weasley’s, grief had plagued him all summer. Or, as Dumbledore would say, love. Harry smiled bittersweetly at this memory, before turning on the spot and Apparating.

He rematerialized at Platform 9 ¾, which was full of blueish steam from the train. Students and parents were everywhere, and he sidled on the brick wall trying to be inconspicuous, waiting for Andromeda, and looking for Ron and Hermione in the crowd.

With a small pop, Andromeda appeared, arms cradled around Teddy, who was crying from the Apparation. She gave Harry an exasperated look. “Well, now I know he doesn’t like Apparating.” Harry chuckled half-heartedly, mind still on Lupin and Tonks.

“Hey- Harry!” Hermione appeared out of the haze on the platform and wrapped Harry in a tight hug, which he returned.

“Hermione!” he replied. Seeing her lifted his spirits, and he smiled at her.

“Hello,” Hermione said to Andromeda, pushing back her hair. Teddy babbled and his hair began to change to the tawny brown color of Hermione’s, who smiled when she noticed.

Harry had owled Hermione over the summer as well, and knew that her summer had been more stressful than his. She had gone to Australia to restore her parent’s memories, and thankfully it had been a success.

“Ron’s got us a compartment on the train. Want to join him?”

“Yeah,” Harry turned and quickly said goodbye to Andromeda and Teddy. “Thanks for having me this summer.”

“It was lovely to have you, dearie.” Harry waved, then he and Hermione began threading their way through the throng towards the Hogwarts Express. A knot of anxiety began twisting in his stomach as people start to notice him.

“...see over there, that’s him…”

“...it’s Harry Potter…”

Eager faces crammed around Harry, and he felt stifled as he tried to get to the train. People were talking and shouting over each other, so many he couldn’t make out individual words at all. Hands scrabbled at his jacket, wanting to be near the Savior of the Wizarding World, as they had dubbed him. Another title. How he hated the titles.

“Excuse me,” he said, but no one listened, and the crowd pushed in at him from all directions, and he had to shut his eyes for a second.

Suddenly a hand grabbed him and unceremoniously dragged him onto the train, shutting the door behind him. Harry sagged against the door as Hermione let go of his arm. Harry sighed and let his breathing slow down.

“I should’ve Apparated right onto the train,” he said to Hermione wryly.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she replied lightly. “Harry,” she begins, eyes looking at him inquisitively, and he knows she’s noted what happened. “Do you get panic attacks?”

“Yes.” Harry set down his trunk and ran his fingers through his hair. “This summer it’s been happening a lot.”

“Well, if you need anything to help with them, come talk to me, ok? My mom had panic attacks, so I know which medicines help.” She mussed his hair affectionately.

“Thanks Hermione.”

….

Draco and the Aurors appeared with a crack just outside of Kings Cross Station, in a small copse of trees where the Muggles wouldn’t see. He irritably jerked free of the two wizards, and ignoring them, began walking toward the station, letting no hint of his dislike seep through his façade. That was a feat in itself, he thought, for he disliked everything right now. His two silent guards, who trailed after him, the fact that in a minute or so he would be surrounded by people who hated him, that he was going back to Hogwarts.

He shoved his way through the throngs of Muggles, letting his anger at all of this be his shield, and stepped through the barrier with no hesitation.

Once he’s onto Platform 9 ¾, he strode quickly to the train, giving no attention to those around him, even as they started to realize who was among them. Soon there was no one in front of him. No one wanted to be near a Malfoy. He sneered. Draco knew very well what was thought of him. He thought it himself.

He boarded the train at the very end and sat in the last compartment, locking the door and, for good measure, spelling the glass to be opaque. Draco’s resigned to a horrible term, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be bothered before he even got there.

Draco gazed out of the window. Catching sight of his reflection, he sighed. In many ways he still looked the same brash, bold boy- blond hair, though he had foregone the gel- pale and aloof. But he knew he’s changed from those days. The most obvious change lay on his arm. His Dark Mark. Or what remained of it.

_Draco lay facedown on his pillow, the only movement the wind blowing in through his open window. It was nighttime, and once again, Draco couldn’t sleep. He clenched his jaw as his forearm throbbed. Every night, when he tried to sleep, his arm would light up with pain. By this point he had stopped trying to sleep, welcoming the pain. He deserved it. He hated himself, hated the Mark on his arm. He drew himself up, sitting on his bed, and glared at it. The skull and snake, twisting obscenely on his arm, jet black. As he looked at it, he remembered...things. Voices. Screaming. The sounds of the dying. Draco shut his eyes as he remembered letting Death Eaters into the castle, willingly allowing and aiding the destruction of his school. Putting his friends in danger. He remembered the tower._

_He didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dropped onto the Mark. He opened his eyes, disgusted with himself. He was a traitor. Had helped murderers. And to top it all off, weak, crying on his bed in the middle of the night._

_He hated what he had done. He hated that he hadn’t seen a way out of it. He hated Voldemort, and all of his followers. He hated his father. He hated the Mark on his arm. Draco screamed._

_His mother burst into his room as he burnt the Mark off of his arm._

Draco laid his head against the cool glass of the window and pulled up his sleeve. No longer was there a Dark Mark upon his arm. Instead there was a large, ugly burn scar. He shook his head and covered it up again, resuming his gaze out the window and avoiding his reflection.

He recognized many of the faces out on the platform. For the most part they’re happy, smiling. A different breed than himself. As the smoke from the train drifted along the platform, he saw someone. Draco bolted upright. Was that-

 _No._ He wilted down into his seat. It wasn’t Bellatrix. Couldn't possibly be Bellatrix, as this lady was with a baby. If Bellatrix had a baby, she’d probably cast some horrid spell on it. 

Draco suddenly realized- his mother and Bellatrix had another sister. Andromeda? Yes, that was her name. He had never met her, of course. She married a Muggleborn, so naturally the rest of his family ceased contact with her. Then he saw another figure standing beside her.

Potter. Draco turned away from the window and rested his head on the seat. He had enough on his mind already without the darling of the Wizarding World intruding on his thoughts.

….

Hermione and Harry found Ron in one of the very last compartments on the train. The only other compartment nearby was opposite theirs, and looked to be empty, but Harry couldn’t see through the glass. They turned into the compartment and close the door. Harry put his trunk up on the rack quickly before greeting Ron.

“Hey mate,” exclaimed Ron as he clapped Harry on the back. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sat next to Ron, who looked the same as Harry remembered, Hermione did as well.

Harry grinned as he spotted a familiar wicker basket. “Hermione, is that what I think it is?”

She laughed. “Yes, it’s Crookshanks.” As she goes on talking the basket began to hiss and quake a little. “He had a good time in Australia, but his fur got even harder to manage than my hair.” Ron smiled and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

“We love your hair, ‘Mione.” he said. “Especially when you’re in Potions and it puffs up, like the cat’s.” Hermione feigned outrage and punched him gently, and Harry laughed.

Harry had not realized how much he’d missed this. Sitting in this small compartment with his two best friends, all of the things that crowded his mind are forgotten for a while, and it’s like he’s eleven years old again, fresh-faced and eager for the future.

As the train started to move, they talk about Hogwarts.

“Professor McGonagall-”

“Headmistress McGonagall, Ron-”

“..said that we have to meet with our Head of House about our careers when we leave Hogwarts.”

“Honestly, I forgot about that,” Harry said, leaning on the armrest. “I haven’t really thought about it. But I don’t think I want to be an Auror anymore- I’ve had enough of that life.”

Hermione grinned, her eyes brightening. “I don’t think I want to do that either, but there are so many options! I mean, you could study something, like wandlore or Transfiguration, or you could be a shopkeeper or go abroad, or I could even take SPEW further, or-”

“Do you really want to do all that, Hermione?” asked Ron, a bemused expression on his face.

“Well no, but it’s all so interesting and the point is, Ronald-” she gave him a look that Harry called the you-need-to-be-studying-and-finish-your-homework-not-talk-about-Quidditch look, “-that you can do, well, anything you want!”

“I guess so,” Ron yawned and shook his red hair out of his eyes. “I might still try to be an Auror.”

“Go for it, mate,” encouraged Harry. Ron grinned a little self-consciously.

“I’ll try, at least. And if that doesn’t work out I can always help George with the joke shop.”

“Is he still going to run that, with-without Fred?” asked Hermione tentatively, and Harry felt the bright mood in the compartment sink a bit.

“I think so. He hasn’t said otherwise, and he still lives in the flat above the shop.” answered Ron. “We didn’t see him as much as usual this summer.”

Hermione clasped Ron’s hand between her own and the slightly haunted look left his eyes.

“Speaking of Ginny, Harry-”

“We aren’t together anymore,” Harry replied, having anticipated the question. “We owled a bit over the summer, and we both realized that we didn’t really like each other that  
much anymore.”

“Yeah, she said about as much over the summer. Mum was a bit disappointed, but Ginny started seeing Dean again and brought him ‘round and Mum likes him too. Mostly because he let her fill up his plate as much as she wanted.” added Ron.

“And you’re ok with that, Harry? Her seeing Dean?” said Hermione.

“Yeah. At first I felt like I shouldn’t be ok with it, but we’re past each other. Just friends now. And Dean’s a great guy.” replied Harry honestly. Then, grinning, he gestured at their clasped hands. “Is it official now?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, her cheeks pinking a little.

“Well congrats.” Harry pulled out his wand and rained pink glitter on them.

Ron laughed and then coughed as he inhaled glitter. “What about you, mate? Looking for a special someone?”

“Not really, no. Although I’m not about to go trumpeting that, all the Prophet readers would mug me. I wish they’d remember I’m a person, not an idol.”

Ron snorted. “Still getting fan mail?” Harry nodded unenthusiastically as Hermione giggled.

“I remember that one you sent me, Harry.” she said. “What was it that she said? Oh yes-” Hermione pulled it out of her bag to Ron’s laughter and Harry’s spluttering- “I’m your biggest fan, I even have a tattoo of your name, so if you ever need a girlfriend, or a hookup, just know I’m here. Kisses, Julia.” They all snorted.

“Well mate, is one tattoo of your name enough?” Ron teased.

“That’s one too many, if you ask me.” And as the sky darkened and the train sped steadily towards Hogwarts, Harry felt truly happy for the first time in a while.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco decided to leave the train as late as he can, so he can avoid the masses of students. When the train began to hiss steam he finally disembarked with his trunk, stepping onto the deserted cobblestones of the station. It’s dark out, and Draco can hear the sounds of crickets somewhere. He blew a breath out of his mouth, watching it steam in the frigid fall air, and his eyes looked to the silhouette of the castle.

Hogwarts. Even though the school held such bad memories for him, a part of him would always feel at home there. After all, he had spent the majority of his time there for seven years, and whether he liked it or not it was an important part of his childhood. He couldn’t see much of the castle from here, just the towers jutting into the inky sky and the small sparkles of light through far-away windows.

The train blew its whistle, making him jump, and Draco collected his things and began the walk to the carriages. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll get one all to himself since everyone else was already on the way to the school.

When he got to the place on the path where the thestral-drawn carriages parked, he saw two empty ones left and shook the mud off of his shoes in preparation. He walked to the other side of the carriages to where the doors of the carriages were and stopped abruptly. Because of course Potter and Weasley and Granger would have to be there. Bloody wonderful.

“Well, Harry, I don’t think that-” Granger cut off her words as she spotted him over Weasley’s shoulder, and they all turned around to face him. Weasley scowled at him, and Granger had her lips drawn together and her arms crossed, and Potter was obviously attempting to school his face into neutrality.

“Malfoy.” Potter nodded curtly, which is more than what Draco expected. He didn’t necessarily want to antagonize Potter this year, since Potter had spoken at his trial as well as that of his mother’s. But he definitely didn’t want to be best mates either.

It wouldn’t be prudent to insult the Boy Who Lived, but sometimes Draco really wanted to. It was almost too easy.

So Draco took the easy way out lest his thoughts come out his mouth and offend someone, and stepped into the nearest carriage without saying a word and shut the door behind him. He felt the wheels turn and the thestrals pulling his carriage began up the path towards Hogwarts.

He had almost forgotten that he would have to be back with the whole bloody pack of Gryffindors this year. Draco huffed and closed his eyes, somewhat annoyed with himself that he, for lack of a better way to put it, ran away. He can see Potter’s messy dark hair in his mind. It reminded him of someone else’s dark hair, the one person he missed.

_Draco runs his fingers through Theo’s inky hair, soft as feathers on his skin. The pair of them are ensconced in a shadowy alcove at Hogwarts somewhere in the dungeons, on one of the rare nights that Draco was able to push the Dark Lord’s task from his mind and tried to be a normal teen._

_“Stop brooding, Draco.” Theo snakes an arm around Draco’s waist and pulls him in._

_“I’m not brooding. Malfoy’s don’t brood.” The other boy chuckles and kisses him, and Draco lets him for a few seconds before resting his head on Theo’s shoulder, exhausted from staying up at night all week. Theo was the only person who really knows the details about what Draco’s been doing. He had told him the last time they’d done this, wrapped  
around each other in the dark._

_“Sure.” Theo tips Draco’s chin up, and presses his lips to Draco’s, who parts his and their tongues touch. Theo nips his bottom lip and tugs him closer, drawing a small sound out of the blond boy. Theo breaks the kiss and Draco frowns. “See? Brooding.”_

_“Haha. Very funny.”_

His nights with Theo had been one of the only bright spots in sixth year. They’d liked each other and since neither of their fathers would allow them to date boys - they were both first-born sons, and were expected to produce heirs sooner than later - they had compensated by meeting up every now and then. Pretending for a while.

It had been just between them, but after the dinner crowd walked into the common room and saw them snogging one night, well. No longer a secret.

No one in Slytherin had cared, and no one outside of Slytherin had known. And Theo had understood him like no one else had. He hadn’t judged him for any of it, which was something Draco had needed and had clung to.

But Theo was in France now, and that was one less friendly face at school. Draco’s carriage rolled to a stop and he pushed open the door and stepped out, moving quickly so he won’t have to deal with the three Gryffindors in the carriage behind him. He strode up the steps, following the trickle of students still making their way to the Great Hall, and set down his trunk with everyone else’s luggage.

Before he entered the castle, he tilted his head back up at the starry night sky, looking for the familiar constellation that he’s named after. It didn’t take that long to find. He remembered years ago, when his mother would take him outside at night, spreading a blanket on the lawn and pointing out the stars for him. He allowed himself a small, secret smile. Then he went inside.

….

Harry watched Malfoy disappear into the carriage, which started moving away from them. “I can’t believe that git is back!” spluttered Ron, letting Hermione pull him into the last carriage. Harry followed, giving one thestral a quick pat on the side. “I mean, why would he even want to? He’s a Death Eater!”

“It’s odd he didn’t say anything. Usually he’d take the first opportunity to jibe at us.” Hermione pointed out. Ron stretched out and rolled his eyes as the carriage moved forward.

“‘Mione, I know that tone. Don’t go feeling bad for that bloody twat. He’s not a house elf.”

“I know that, Ron. I’m just curious as to if he’s changed at all.”

“Doubt it,” Ron scoffed. “Slytherins don’t change their colors.”

He’d certainly looked different, thought Harry, staring out of the carriage window at the murky twilight. Malfoy hadn’t looked so ill as he had during the war. He’d left his hair alone, for another thing. A bit taller too..

“Harry?” He sat up.

“Sorry, what?”

“Ron wants to know what you think about Malfoy,” she replied, sitting back into her seat.

“Er, I dunno. I guess I agree with you.” Harry managed, not remembering what they’d said but figured agreeing with Hermione was a safe bet.

“Well, pointy blond Slytherins aside, I hope there’s sausage.” Ron said eagerly, making Hermione snort.

“What? I’m hungry!”

“You never change, do you?”

When their carriage pulled up to the front doors of Hogwarts, there’s no one outside.

“Guess we’re the last. We’d better hurry up.” Hermione dropped her trunk with the other luggage and tugged on Ron’s hand. Harry followed them inside, glancing longingly at the quiet forest, knowing he’d be swarmed when they entered the Great Hall. Being famous was cool or whatever, but most of the time Harry wished he was just another kid.

The three ascend the staircase and with a sigh, Harry entered the Great Hall. The stone room is brightly lit, the floating candles clustering together overhead of the seated students. It’s just as he remembered.

“Look, there’s a table for the eighth years,” whispered Hermione in his ear, and Harry saw a smaller table up front, facing the House tables and below the professors table. A smattering of eighth years sat rather uncomfortably at their new table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly make their way there, Harry determinedly ignoring the excited voices that surround him as he passed between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor table, and after what seemed like an eternity of walking they made it to the eighth years and sat. He took a deep breath and squashed the anxiety stirring in his stomach from the crowds.

“Hey, Harry.” said Neville, and Dean and Seamus chimed in with greetings as well. Harry said hello and looked down the table. Aside from Neville, Dean, and Seamus, he saw Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott; Micheal Corner, Parvati and Padma Patil, Sue Li, Terry Boot, and Susan Bones. At the opposite end of the table was a group of Slytherins- Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and slightly apart from them, Malfoy.

Hermione tapped his shoulder. “Look at the staff table, new teachers.” Harry nodded, then turned his head to the doors of the Great Hall as the first-years filed in, led by Professor Sprout.

“They’re so small,” whispered Ron. “Were we that small?” Harry grinned.

“Probably.”

The Sorting Hat is brought out on it’s stool, looking as patchy and frayed as ever, but remarkably still in one piece after being set on fire by Voldemort. Everyone in the hall stared at it, and Harry was struck with a weird sense of deja-vu as he remembered being a terrified first-year, standing in front of the hat before it began to sing.

And sing it did, about most of the usual things; the traits of the houses, the four founders. A song more like the first one Harry had ever heard, and less like the ones more recently, when the hat tried to advise the school. After a round of applause, the Headmistress opened a long roll of parchment and began to call forward the first-years.

Harry watched with everyone else, glad to have the attention off of him for a moment. After “Trenton, William - RAVENCLAW!”, McGonagall rose from her seat at the center of the staff table and touched her spoon to her glass, and the students quiet.

“Another year at Hogwarts,” she began, with a warm smile. “To all of our first years, welcome. To all of our returning students, welcome back. Now, please enjoy your feast.” She sat down and the tables filled with food.

Harry and Ron both ate generous helpings as they talked to the other eighth years.

“...spent the summer in Croatia.” Neville said. “They had a good summer Herbology program, and I got an invitation for an apprenticeship there for next year.”

“Congrats, Neville!” exclaimed Hermione, and Neville grinned self-consciously.

“..I heard McGonagall got a new Transfiguration professor. Makes sense, since she’s Headmistress now, but it’ll be weird not learning from her..” Susan discreetly pointed out a tall   
blonde lady talking with Professor Sprout. “I think they said her name was Professor Eagry.”

“Who’s taking Defense?” asked Dean, and Micheal answered him.

“The bloke next to Professor Flitwick. Heard he taught at Ilvermorny for seven years before coming here.”

“Slughorn isn’t still teaching Potions, is he?” questioned Hermione.

“No, he only agreed to one year.” pointed out Ron. “Right Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, serving himself a piece of steak and kidney pie.

“The new Potions professor is the dark-haired one, next to Trelawney. She’s from Australia.”

The chatter continued on in this way and Harry was content just to listen. Every now and then, as he made his way through a piece of treacle tart, he let his eyes drift across the room and tried to spot cracks or damage from last year. But it looked as normal as ever.

His eyes fell on the other people at the eighth year table, all chatting away merrily. It was so surreal, being back here, eating in the Great Hall, when the last time he had seen some of these people was in the Battle of Hogwarts facing off against Death Eaters.

Well, except Malfoy. He was scowling down at his plate. But then again, thought Harry, scowling was pretty normal for him. Maybe some things were still the same.

After dessert was cleared away, McGonagall rose from her seat again and made her way to the podium.

“Once again, welcome everyone. I have a few announcements before you all go to your dormitories. First, as you all can see restoration on the castle has been completed. There is a memorial newly built in the Courtyard, to honor the fallen.”

The mood in the Great Hall sobered a bit. That was something unexpected, thought Harry. But the idea of a memorial fit. It seemed right.

“Second, we have new professors this year. The new Transfigurations teacher is Professor Eagry. Professor Kiva will be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Rindle will be teaching Muggle Studies, and Professor Athme will cover the subject of Potions.” As each name is called, the new teachers stood and a polite round of applause rung out for each one.

“Furthermore, our Caretaker, Mr. Filch has posted a list of all items banned from the school, which I believe includes a great deal of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products.” McGonagall continued. “Those of you wishing to try out for your House Quidditch team will submit their names to their Head of House, and Quidditch Captains will organize tryouts. Likewise for Quidditch Commentators. Now, off to your dormitories everyone, and schedules will be handed out in the morning. Eighth Years, please stay behind.”

It took a while for the other students to clear out of the Great Hall, though Harry’s spirits were lifted somewhat when he saw Luna waving merrily at him as she left, radish earrings swaying.

Next to him, Ron patted his stomach fondly. “That was as good as I remember.” Hermione cast him an amused look.

Headmistress McGonagall strode to the head of the eighth year table.

“Now, as you all know, there are no dormitories for eighth years. Therefore all of you will have your own common room and dormitories. On the east third-floor hallway, in front of the portrait of the red dragon. I will take you all there in a moment.”

“Our own dormitory?” whispered Ron. “Bloody brilliant.”

“We have to share with all the other eighth years, though.” muttered Seamus in response. “I don’t fancy sleeping with Slytherins nearby.”

“Now,” continued McGonagall, with a sharp look at Seamus. “While sharing dormitories and a common room I expect each and every one of you to behave yourselves. As the eldest students in Hogwarts, you will be setting the example for other students. One of those examples will be inter-house unity. You will all be sharing dorms with students from various houses.”

Harry saw Zabini mutter something to Pansy and Daphne, who were standing close together; they smirked. Harry glanced at Malfoy. He still sat apart from everyone, and his face was expressionless.

“I will pass the dormitory list around once we arrive at your common room. Now, there will be no Quidditch for the eighth years-” several people made shocked noises, including Ron, and she spoke over them “-as you are technically no longer in your houses. You may continue to wear your house colors but otherwise consider yourselves simply eighth years.”

“Headmistress,” interjected Dean. “Are we still allowed to use the Quidditch Pitch? For our own flying?”

McGonagall nodded. “Yes you may, Mr. Thomas. Another thing- as seventh years, you would have met with your Head of House to discuss careers. You all will be doing this this year along with the seventh years.”

“When will details for those meetings be posted, Headmistress?” asked Hermione.

“A notice should appear in your common room two weeks from now. And finally, before we go to your common room, I have an important announcement.”

“Another bloody announcement,” Ron muttered. “At this rate we’ll be here till morning.”

“That is incorrect, Mr. Weasley,” said McGonagall dryly, and Ron flushed.

“The eighth years have a special opportunity. This year we will be conducting an exchange trip with the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.”

….

Draco’s head snapped up. Had he heard that right? He’d let his brain wander during McGonagall’s announcements.

“An exchange trip? With Beauxbatons?” Granger asked. Draco could almost _see_ her hair puffing up from excitement.

“Correct, Ms. Granger. You will get more information in a week, but it would be a three month exchange only for the eighth years of Hogwarts.”

With that McGonagall began to lead them to their new common room, but Draco trailed along behind everyone else, his mind racing with a new hope. If he could get a spot on that exchange trip… he wouldn’t have to spend as much time be goggled at and whispered about. He could live some semblance of a normal life for three whole months. In France, nonetheless.

Draco only came out of his funk when he bumped into something. Something… warm? No, someone. “Sorry.” he said, his mind still on Beauxbatons and escaping to France. He looked up to see Potter.

The other boy blinked at him with green eyes through those awful glasses like he was just as confused. For the second time that night, Draco didn’t know what to do. He stood there awkwardly, debating walking away a second time.

But Potter solved the whole issue for both of them. “It’s alright.” he said, looking at Draco oddly. Like Draco wasn’t like he’d thought. Then he turned back around.

Draco blinked at the weirdness of the situation that had just occurred, and quietly moved to the other side of the group, behind some Hufflepuffs.

“...password is Aurea Anthos.” The portrait of a red dragon twisting gracefully against a sunset swung open and the eighth years began to file inside. Once everyone had entered and he was alone, Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed a break if he was apologizing to Potter, of all people. If he and Potter weren’t insulting and jibing at each other, Draco really didn’t know what to do around him.

After Draco’s trial over the summer, he had never thanked Potter for speaking for him and his mother. He supposed he should, since it was likely because he spoke that his mother only got off with a year of house arrest and Draco had gotten a summer of probation, not counting his time at Hogwarts.

He knew his mother had thanked Potter, and Draco knew he wasn’t the only one who was shocked when Potter had said that Narcissa saved his life. After the trial he had asked his mother about it and she had told him the story, and he had been silent for a long moment. That was when he decided to try to be at least civil to Potter, as much as it annoyed him.

But if Draco had known civility- hell, ignoring him, even- was this awkward, he wouldn’t have made that promise to himself.

“Uh. Malfoy? You coming inside?” Draco opened his eyes to see one of the Patil twins looking at him, peering out from the portrait hole. He exhaled. At least some people were being civil to him, too. But they probably wouldn’t if they saw him antagonizing the ‘Chosen One’.

“Yeah.” he said, and followed her in. He’d try to be civil a little longer, then.

As the portrait hole closed behind him, he stared at a round room, vastly different from the Slytherin Common Room. For one thing, it was a ghastly shade of orange. And the couches, arranged around a merrily dancing fireplace, were purple.

“Putrid,” said Daphne Greengrass next to him, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, I guess they didn’t want to use House colors. But this is just horrid.”

“Are you talking to me?” Draco asked.

“Well, I’m trying to. I would’ve at dinner but you had a lovely scowl on your face so I figured it was best to wait.”

“Why are you talking to me?” Draco looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Daphne was a pretty blond girl, who he had never really talked to outside of class. He’d seen her in the Slytherin common room, though, and knew she was friends with Pansy.

“Because,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Father dearest told me not to, just like Blaise and Pansy’s parents told them, but I rather adore breaking Father’s rules and you looked lonely anyway.”

“I did not look lonely.” he answered, and he knew his tone was rather standoffish but he couldn’t help it.

“If you say so,” shrugged Daphne. “I’m still sitting with you at breakfast tomorrow, Dray.”

He huffed. “What did you just call me?”

“I nickname all my friends. Blaise is Blaisey, Pansy is Panpan and now you’re Dray.” She smirked at the horrified expression on his face. “Relax, I’m joking. Will you talk to me like you’re a normal person now?”

“Greengrass, you don’t want to be associated with a Death Eater.” If he was being honest he did kind of want to get to know her. She seemed like the type of Slytherin he would enjoy hanging out with. But he didn’t want people to bully her as well as him.

“Oh please. You are not a Death Eater. You wouldn’t kill anyone. And anyway,” she continued, a more serious expression settling on her face, “You aren’t the only Slytherin that’s going to be hated on. Pansy’s the one who told everyone to arrest Potter last year, and Blaise and I are Slytherins from families associated with Him.”

Draco blinked. It was embarrassing to think that this had slipped his mind. “Yes,” he said. “That’s true. I suppose.”

“And you can call me Daphne, you know. You boys are weird when you call everyone by their last name.”

“...Fine, Daphne.”

“Splendid. Now let’s go look at the dorm lists.” And without further ado, she grabbed his arm and dragged him through the common room over to the gathering around the dorm lists. Enough people had already looked and left that they were able to see properly.

_Boys Dorm 1:  
Ron Weasley  
Ernie Macmillan  
Seamus Finnegan  
Terry Boot  
Blaise Zabini_

_Boys Dorm 2:  
Draco Malfoy  
Harry Potter  
Neville Longbottom  
Dean Thomas  
Micheal Corner_

_Girls Dorm 1:  
Hermione Granger  
Daphne Greengrass  
Padma Patil  
Sue Li_

_Girls Dorm 2:  
Hannah Abbott  
Parvati Patil  
Susan Bones  
Pansy Parkinson_

“Bloody wonderful,” muttered Draco. “A room with Potter and Longbottom. I could just go jump off the Astronomy Tower. At least then I would die faster.”

Next to him, Daphne pulled a face. “Jumping off a tower is so messy.” She sideyed him. “Pray tell me before you jump so I can call someone to clean your guts off the Courtyard.”  
Draco smirked, the banter making him feel like his old self for once. “I’ll be sure to call the best cleaners before I go,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” Daphne snorted.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at breakfast. No night-time Astronomy Tower visits.”

“Who, me? Never. I have more class than that.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and fluttered her fingers good-bye before heading up the small staircase to the girl’s dorms.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, Malfoy? Surprised you found a girl to take a Death Eater.” Finnegan stood up from a knot of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys on the sofa, though Draco didn’t see Potter or Weasley. Thomas grabbed Finnegan’s sleeve.

“Seamus.” murmured Thomas. “Leave him alone, mate.”

Draco turned around and faced Finnegan. Trading insults was something he knew how to do. Even if he knew it wasn’t the smartest thing. “Don’t be jealous, Finnegan. It’s not a good look on you. Nothing is, if I’m being honest.” He saw the anger on the other boy’s face, and felt his own anger rising to match it.

“Fuck off, Malfoy. You should be in jail with your dear old dad.” Draco inhaled, trying to keep his calm. Some part of him agreed with the Gryffindor, a shadow lurking over his shoulder that he’d been so desperately trying to keep at bay all summer. _He’s right. You should be in Azkaban. You’re the reason all those people are dead._ Draco pushed those thoughts from his head. Now is not the time for that, he thought.

He knew he shouldn’t start fights, it would get him kicked out. But Merlin, he so desperately wanted to let spells roll off his tongue and knock Finnegan backwards. Not to mention, it would keep away the guilt and self hate for at least a little while.

Finnegan narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t even be here. No one wants Death Eaters here.” he said loudly.

Don’t fight him, don’t get baited, chanted Draco’s mind as he stared coldly at the other boy, struggling to clamp down on his anger. He knew this would happen eventually, he’d expected it. Draco whipped around without another word and headed towards the boy’s dormitory.

“Didn’t you hear me, Malfoy? You should go throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower. Do us all a favor.” Draco clenched his jaw but didn’t face Finnegan, though he can hear the other boys trying to calm Finnegan down.

“Don’t walk away from me, Malfoy-”

“What’s going on?” Potter suddenly walked down the stairs in front of Draco, eyes widening at something over Draco’s shoulder. “Seamus, what are you-”

Suddenly Draco’s hit by something with the force of a train and he flew backward and cracked his head painfully against the wall. Fucking hell, he thought woozily. Finnegan must’ve flipendo’d him or something. Through blurry eyes, he saw Potter striding angrily down the stairs toward Finnegan, heard muffled voices like he’s underwater.

“Draco! Are you alright?” came a loud voice, and he groggily opened his eyes to see Daphne leaning over him. His head throbbed, and he groaned at a wave of pain.

“Fucking….Finnegan.” Draco muttered through clumsy lips. His vision went black and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

….

Harry strode over to Seamus, who Dean is trying to restrain. “What the hell, Seamus? Why are you attacking him? What’s going on?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw more people stream down from the dormitories; Daphne Greengrass immediately rushed over to Malfoy’s motionless form.

“What happened, Seamus?” Harry asked again. The other boy won’t meet Harry’s eyes but stared at his shoes. Harry let out a breath and turned his attention to Dean.

“Seamus started mouthing off at Malfoy and Malfoy was trying to leave, I think, but then Seamus...well, you saw the rest of it.” Dean told Harry.

“What’s going on?” Ron came up behind Harry. “Seamus, did you curse Malfoy?” he said incredulously, looking from Seamus to Malfoy slumped against the wall.

“Yes, I fucking did, because he’s a bloody Death Eater, Ron! He shouldn’t be here! He should be in Azkaban!” Seamus burst out loudly.

“Seamus, you can’t go around attacking people!” exclaimed Harry. When Seamus looked up at him defiantly, Harry threw up his hands and walked over to where Malfoy lay against the wall, Daphne kneeling next to him. Malfoy’s obviously unconscious; his eyes are closed, and Harry saw red staining Malfoy’s blond hair and with a jolt, remembered the fight in the bathroom in sixth year. There was blood in his hair then, too.

“We need to take him to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry quietly to Daphne. Her hands are balled into fists.

“Finnegan accuses us of being Death Eaters and killers, but he’s the one who fucking attacked someone when their back was turned.” she hissed, turning her head and glaring at Seamus.

Harry doesn’t know what to say, but Daphne’s words resonate. They’re true. “You’re right,” he said to her. “But I think we need to get him to the hospital wing.”

She nodded warily, and Harry stepped back and let Daphne carefully levitate Malfoy and followed her out of the common room. As they stepped out of the portrait hole, Hermione rushed around the corner with the Headmistress behind her, and they stopped short at the sight of Malfoy.

“We’re taking him to the hospital wing,” explained Harry.

McGonagall sighed. “Thank you Mr. Potter, Ms. Greengrass. When Mr. Malfoy is situated with Madam Pomfrey please return to the common room.” They murmured assent and the Headmistress entered the common room. Harry caught Hermione’s sleeve as she turned to follow McGonagall.

“Hey- thanks for going to get the Headmistress.”

“No problem.” She gave him a small, subdued smile and Harry and Daphne walked down the empty halls to the Hospital Wing. It’s dimly lit, with only the flickering torches on the wall providing light. The windows that they pass show the dark mass of the Forbidden Forest, and Harry can just barely make out Hagrid’s hut at the border of the forest

“Harry. Can you get the door?” Daphne blew strands of her blond hair out of her face as she held her wand aloft.

“Oh- yeah.” He tugged on the heavy wooden door and she levitated Malfoy through it. Inside, neat rows of hospital beds lined both sides of the room, and Madam Pomfrey was leaning over a small girl with a cast on her arm. She looked up at their footsteps, and when she saw the unconscious Malfoy she quickly strode over to them.

“Set him down here.” She pulled out her wand as Daphne gingerly lowered him onto a bed. “What happened to the boy?”

“He got thrown into a wall. Hit his head.” answered Harry, wincing a little as he remembers the awful thud. Madam Pomfrey let out a great sigh and began casting little spells. 

Harry and Daphne stood to the side, watching her dart around the motionless figure, flicking her wand this way and that.

“He’ll have to stay the night.” Madam Pomfrey straightened and faced them.

“Will he be alright?” asked Daphne anxiously.

“Yes, dear. He’ll be fine in a day or two. Now,” she continued, with a reassuring smile. “You two can go on, I’ll watch him.”

Harry and Daphne turned to leave, Daphne a bit reluctantly. As they walked down the empty stone halls, footsteps echoing, Daphne spoke.

“Harry, why did you come with me? I thought you didn’t like Malfoy.” They stop walking.

“Honestly, it didn’t occur to me.” Harry said. “Not to come with you, I mean. Hermione always says I have a saving-people thing.” he smiled, hearing Hermione’s exasperated voice in his head. “ And yes, Malfoy and I… we’ve never liked each other. But just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I won’t help him in a situation like this. And things have changed, I think. We definitely aren’t friends, but I don’t hate him like I used to.”

“Really?”

“Well, I still dislike him.” Harry amended, and Daphne laughed.

“I get it. Thank you for telling me all this.” she replied, and Harry decided to broach a question of his own.

“Have you and him always been friends?” he asked.

“No, actually. We’ve known each other for a while, but I only started trying to befriend him today.”

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He looked like he needed a friend.” she said simply, and Harry nodded. The two walked back to the common room in companionable silence, both thinking over the other’s words, and the blond boy lying in the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco opened his eyes blearily and immediately shut them at the bright light streaming in from the windows. Where was he? He propped himself up onto his elbows and lifted his head but- bloody hell, his head hurt. He groaned and lay back down.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, you’re awake. Good. I need you to take this potion, dearie.” Madam Pomfrey’s cheery voice came floating across the room, and after her words reached Draco the lady herself did; he could hear her pouring a measure of some foul-smelling potion into a cup. He wrinkled his nose, at the smell and her calling him dearie, and opened his eyes again, slower this time.

“Why am I in the hospital wing?” he asked, and she handed him the cup.

“You had a rather nasty blow to your head. Now drink up, there’s a good boy.”

Ah. Now Draco remembered the events of last night. Finnegan yelling, being blown into a wall, Daphne, Potter, and a blank period where he must’ve fallen unconscious.

“Bloody Finnegan.” he muttered mutinously, downing the potion and barely stopping himself from gagging. It does help his head, though, he admitted to himself grudgingly.

If he’s being honest he wants nothing more than to go find Finnegan and go repay the favor of putting Draco in the hospital wing, but he knew if he did he would probably get expelled. Technically he was still under probation. He could only hope that Finnegan got punished soundly.

“Now, that potion will take the pain down and then you have my permission to leave. You’ll get your schedule at breakfast.” Pomfrey sighed as she capped the potion bottle and cleared up. “Ms. Greengrass dropped in on you this morning after she and Mr. Potter brought you in last night.”

“What?” Draco said, too loudly, and clutched his head. “Potter brought me here?” he continued a moment later.

“Yes, Mr. Potter and Ms. Greengrass levitated you in. Alright. You can go down to breakfast whenever you’re ready.”

Draco thanked her and she left to tend to someone else. Why had Potter brought him in? He frowned as he swung his legs off the bed. Maybe he’d ask Daphne later. It’s not like he could ask Potter, or wanted to, but he was still curious.

Draco made his way to the eighth year dorms, because he’s still wearing yesterday's robes and that will not do. He stopped in front of the dragon portrait and said “Aurea Anthos.” 

The painting swung open and he stepped inside, eyeing the common room to make sure Finnegan’s not there. Thankfully he’s not. Just Corner, Macmillan, and Bones. Draco jogged up the stairs and entered his dorm room for the first time, which was empty. Good thing that cretin Finnegan wasn’t sharing this room with him, Draco thought. That git would end up strangled in the bedsheets by weeks end.

It’s a small stone-walled room, thankfully not as gaudy as the common room, but still not what he would prefer. There’s a small window, the view looking out over the Black Lake. Draco headed to the one unoccupied bed, which his trunk sat at the foot of, brought up by the house-elves. He quickly changed into fresh robes and entered the lavatory to fix his hair. He didn’t need it looking as horribly messy as Potter’s.

As he left the dorm, he stopped and went over to his bed again. Pale orange sheets. Draco shuddered. Not even silk sheets! It was some plebian cotton monstrosity. In the Slytherin common room, things had been much more adequate. He pulled out his wand, which Potter had sent back to him this summer. Another thing to thank him for, probably, thought Draco.

“Colovaria,” he said, flourishing his wand, and the sheets deepen to an emerald green. He then transfigured them into silk, and admired his handiwork for a moment before leaving the room and heading down the stairs to the Great Hall.

Draco didn’t pass many people on the way down; but he’s a bit late from being discharged from the hospital wing. When he walked into the Great Hall, a couple of heads turned and looked at him, surprisingly less than expected. Thankfully less than expected. He’s already been attacked once, by that boneheaded Gryffindor, and Draco didn’t feel like another trip to the hospital wing.

He reached the eighth year table and dropped down smoothly next to Daphne at one end.

“Draco!” she exclaimed. “I dropped in this morning but you weren’t awake yet.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey told me that. I’m alright now, though.” he said, snagging a muffin and pouring himself tea. “No thanks to Finnegan.” Draco took a moment to glance down the table at the Irish boy and saw him sullenly picking at his food.

Daphne snorted, tying her long hair back with a green ribbon. “Last night was glorious. When Potter and I got back to the common room, the Headmistress was ripping Finnegan a new one. He got detention three times a week for the rest of the year, and no Hogsmeade trips.”

Draco nibbled primly on his chocolate muffin. “Good riddance.” He pondered a way to ask about Potter, but before he can Blaise and Pansy slide onto the bench across from them and exchanged an awkward glance. “Listen Draco,” began Pansy. “Blaise and I.. we just wanted to say. Sorry we weren’t talking to you earlier.”

Draco eyed the two of them. “Is this because I got my head bashed in last night?” He tried to sound aloof, but didn’t pull it off like normal, because he’s not really mad at them for staying away. How could he be mad, when he would have done the same thing if their positions were reversed?

“Partly,” replied Blaise sheepishly. “But-seriously. Our mistake.”

“Indeed,” said Draco, and grabbed Pansy’s bacon.

“Hey!”

“It’s the least you can do for me, Pansy.” The other girl rolled her eyes with a sigh.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so horrible, thought Draco as he sipped his tea, but he discreetly rapped his knuckles ten times under the table. Not taking any chances.

“Oh, here comes McGonagall with the schedules.” said Daphne as the Headmistress strode up to the eighth year table.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, peering over her glasses at Draco, who finished off Pansy’s bacon hastily. “Good to have you back. Here’s your schedule.”

“Thank you, Headmistress.” he replied politely, and she moved along the table to pass out everyone else’s schedules.

“Double Transfiguration, double potions.” mused Draco. “Not a terrible day.”

“Ooh, me too.” exclaimed Daphne. “I wonder how these new professors will measure up.” A few minutes later the two of them left the Great Hall and head up the stairs to Transfiguration.

“So,” commented Draco nonchalantly. “Why did Potter tag along with you last night to bring me to the hospital wing, exactly?” A trace of amusement flashed across Daphne’s face.

“I asked him the same thing on the way back. He just said something like, I don’t hate Malfoy, I just dislike him, but I wasn’t just going to not help him when he needed it.”

“I don’t need help from Potter!”

“His words, not mine.” Daphne turned into the classroom and Draco trudged along behind her and sat down at a desk in a swish of robes. She sat down next to him and took out her books and quill, then huffed.

“I forgot my inkpot, dammit.”

“You can share mine,” Draco waved a hand benevolently, and she laughed.

“Thanks.”

More students trickled in, and the Professor strode in gracefully and stood in front of her mahogany desk. The class gradually filled, a mix of eighth and seventh year students, and just before the bell rang Potter and Granger came in and sat at the desk next to Draco. Oh joy, he thought moodily, fiddling with his eagle-feather quill.

He looked at Potter out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t look any different. Draco didn’t know why he’d expected him too after last night. Same messy black hair, ugly glasses, green eyes.

“Welcome, students, to NEWT Transfiguration. I am Professor Eagry.” She was a tall, slim, pale blond woman in voluminous black robes with her hands clasped behind her back. “Today we will be reviewing human transfiguration. I will put you in pairs and you will take turns attempting to change aspects of each other’s appearance. First, I want you to change the color of your partner’s eyebrows. When you have all accomplished this I will give you the next exercise.”

Professor Eagry began to move through the classroom, pairing up students. To Draco’s annoyance it wasn’t by desk seating.

“Mr. Malfoy, you can pair with Ms.Granger. Ms. Greengrass, please pair with Mr.Potter.”

….

Harry stood to switch seats with Malfoy, who moved deftly around him without meeting his eyes.

Harry was beginning to think Hermione might be onto something when she said that Malfoy might have changed. Harry hadn’t had the time to think about all their weird meetings earlier, because of the whole Seamus attacking Malfoy thing.

But when he had seen Malfoy by the carriages, and when he bumped into him, Malfoy hadn’t been insulting or rude or sneering. He’d just been quiet, and kind of indifferent. And whenever he met Malfoy’s gaze, he hadn’t sensed any hostility.

Honestly Harry welcomed the change- he had enough on his mind already without dealing with Malfoy’s snide remarks. All the same, it was still odd.

“Earth to Harry?” Daphne’s voice interrupted his musing.

“Oh- sorry. Spaced out.” Daphne had an amused expression on her face. “You can go first?” Harry offered.

“Alright.” she agreed. “Warning, my wand’s going to be in your face.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks.” He was glad she had given a warning, as trivial as it seemed- over the summer Andromeda had done the same thing with her wand suddenly to fix his glasses and Harry had been struck by a panic attack. Flashbacks of the war had imprinted themselves on his eyes in vivid color and he had shakily fallen onto a nearby armchair.

“Crinus Muto,” said Daphne, holding her wand steadily. A bright blue light briefly flashed and Harry’s eyebrows felt like someone had just poured cold water on them. “Hey, it worked.” Daphne said. “Blue eyebrows.” Harry snorted.

“Ok, my turn.” he said. “Crinus Muto.” There’s a red glow of light and Daphne’s eyebrows turn red. “Red eyebrows are an interesting look on you.”

“Excellent job, you two.” said Professor Eagry from over Harry’s shoulder. “5 points to Slytherin and Gryffindor.” The two grin at each other as she moves on.

“You know, you’re not so bad. For a Gryffindor.” Daphne announced as she changed her eyebrows back.

“You aren’t horrible either, for a Slytherin.” Harry replied, restoring his own eyebrows. They return to their seats and Harry sat down back next to Hermione.

“Now class, take out your parchment and please write down these notes..” began Professor Eagry, flicking her wand, and Harry and Hermione start writing.

“How was it with Greengrass?” Hermione whispered to him under the noise of scratching quills, and Harry glanced at her.

“It was fine. She’s pretty nice, actually. Not like Parkinson.”

“Yeah. In our dorm last night she seemed ok.”

Harry copied down an intricate diagram on how to Transfigure someone’s ears into leaves. “How was it with Malfoy?”

A speculative look appeared on Hermione’s face. “Surprisingly not horrible.” she whispered. “He didn’t try to have a go at me at all. Just did the assignment and stayed quiet.”

At the end of class the professor announced the homework and dismissed them.Harry and Hermione made their way down to the Great Hall and joined Ron at lunch.

“What class did you have, Ron?” Harry asked as he swung his legs over the bench and grabbed a handful of chips. Some younger Gryffindors near the eighth year table eye him and whisper excitedly to one another.

“Charms, with Neville and Dean. Professor Flitwick had us reviewing non-verbal spells.” Ron bit into a chicken leg. “Some seventh year accidentally blew out a window. You two had Transfiguration, right? How was that new professor?”

“She was pretty good. She partnered me with Malfoy and Harry with that Greengrass girl for an exercise, but it wasn’t as bad as expected.” Hermione spooned peas onto her plate.  
Ron frowned. “Really? He didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Not at all. It was odd.” She shrugged, and Ron changed the topic.

“So, what about that Beauxbatons trip, eh? Were you guys thinking of trying to get a spot?”

“It sounds really interesting! It would be wonderful to visit another wizarding school.” Hermione’s eyes shine. Harry nodded agreement.

“Excuse me? Harry?” came a small, high-pitched voice from behind him. Harry turned around and saw the kids from before, a Gryffindor boy and girl. “Could-could I get your autograph?”

Harry forced a smile. “I don’t do autographs. Sorry.”

“Oh- that’s alright!” The younger boy clutched his notebook and continued to stare at Harry as he slowly backed away.

“Goodbye,” said Harry, trying to make the two leave. Everyone nearby is watching, and it made him bloody uncomfortable. The girl waved, and dragged the boy back to the Gryffindor table. Harry closed his eyes in annoyance for a second.

“Yeah, I’d love to go to Beauxbatons.” Harry sighed. “Maybe there I could be more inconspicuous.” Hermione shot him a sympathetic look.

When lunch is over, Harry shouldered his bag and quickly made his way down to the dungeons for Potions. As he entered the classroom, he’s pleasantly surprised to see it’s vastly different from when Snape occupied it. The room is brighter, and smelled less musty. The shelves that lined the walls held cauldrons, books, and ingredients, not the jars of preserved things that inhabited the shelves when Snape was professor.

“You must be Mr. Potter.” Harry spun and saw a young, dark-haired black woman sitting at Snape’s old desk. She had a faint Aussie accent, and he vaguely remembered someone   
saying last night that she was from Australia.

“Hello,” he replied. “You’re… Professor Athme, right?” The lady gave him a smile.

“Yes.” she said. More people began to trickle in, and she stood. “I have a seating chart everyone. On the far wall.” Harry walked over there and after a moment of searching, saw his name at a desk. Next to Malfoy’s name. Why was he not surprised?

If he was lucky, thought Harry, maybe Malfoy’s indifferent mood would stick and this wouldn’t be any harder than it had to be. He went and sat at the desk assigned to him and waited for the Slytherin to join him.

….

Draco and Daphne walk the familiar path through the corridors to the Potions classroom after eating lunch with Blaise and Pansy.

“You know, Hermione invited me to study with her this weekend. All the girls from my dorm, actually. We all have Arithmancy together tomorrow.” Daphne adjusted her bag strap. Draco made a noncommittal sound as they turn a corner. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

“Not really.” He paused. “Though I used to dislike her because she was Muggleborn. I cared about that too much when I was little.”

“It’s the way we were all raised,” said Daphne with a sigh.

“Yes.” agreed Draco. “Now, though, I mainly just dislike her out of habit. Like Potter and Weasley.”

“That’s not a very good excuse for not liking someone.”

“I never said it was, Daphne.” She looked at him, obviously expecting him to say more, and with a huff he did. “I guess- I don’t know. I know obviously they don’t like me because of how I treated them in the past, but it’s not like I want them in my life. I might not hate them, but that doesn’t mean all of a sudden I have to go to the opposite side of the spectrum and become best mates with them.”

“I get that.” She picked at a nail.

“But….” prompted Draco.

“But what?”

“Daphne, I know there’s more you want to say. Spit it out.”

“Don’t you want them to know you’ve changed? That you aren’t the brat they see you as?”

“I don’t really care what they think of me, Daphne. And I haven’t changed that much. Even if I did turn into a Hufflepuff and wanted for some weird reason to befriend them, there’s too much bad blood in the past.” And with that final comment Draco entered the classroom, Daphne following behind him. He had a feeling she’ll bring this up again later.

“Seating chart on the wall, everyone.” called the professor at the front of the classroom, and Draco blinked in surprise. They’ve never had seating charts before. He strolled over to the piece of parchment on the wall and scanned it for his name. It’s next to Potter’s. He scoffed softly and eyed the back of Potter’s head. Daphne’s already walking to her seat beside some seventh year Ravenclaw.

Draco closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath before walking to his desk and sitting down next to Potter. The other boy glanced at him, a mite too long.

“What?” Draco snapped, remembering too late his promise to himself that he wouldn’t antagonize the other boy.

“Nothing.” answered Potter, raising his eyebrows slightly. Draco turned away and glared at the wall.

“Good afternoon, class. I’m Professor Athme and today we will be brewing a Wit-Sharpening potion. Instructions can be found on page 32 of your books, and ingredients are in the cupboard. You have all of class to complete this.” The room filled with the sound of turning pages and clanking as students get out their cauldrons.

Draco rifled through his book to page 32. “Valerian root, fluxweed, shrivelfig, porcupine quills.” he muttered, then lifted his head. “Potter, go get-” he stopped at the sight of the other boy dumping the first few ingredients on their desk.

“Went ahead and got them,” he announced. Draco sniffed.

“Yes, brilliant job. You got some stuff from the cupboard. Do you want a medal, or will you go get the rest of them since we both know I’m the one that will be brewing this potion?” he retorted, having given up on being civil. Potter rolled his eyes but grabbed his book and went back to get everything else.

Draco poked his wand under the cauldron and got a fire going. He ran his finger along the first line of text. Finely chop 32 ounces of the valerian root and add to the water base. Boil for 30 seconds. He took out his silver knife and meticulously began to chop the valerian root.

Potter came back with the rest of the ingredients and set them on the table. A little jar started to roll and Draco yelped and lunged for it.

“Merlin, Potter! Be more careful, this is powdered dragon claw. It would have exploded if the glass shattered.” The other boy had an amused expression on his face and Draco glared at him as he set the tiny jar of dragon claw down.

“Sorry,” said Potter. “Can I do anything?”

Draco gave him a withering look. “No. You’re too clumsy.”

“Well I have to do something.”

“You can sit there and shut the hell up, you cretin.”

“Why are you so mad, Malfoy?”

“It’s hard not to be, with you around.” Draco remarked, and slid the chopped valerian root off of the cutting board and into the cauldron. A shoot of silver sparks went up and he poked the fire with his wand again to get the solution boiling.

“Really, though.” Potter had a curious look on his face.

“None of your business. And stop looking at me like that, Potter!” he exclaimed. Their eyes kept meeting and Potter had a gleam in his green eyes like he’s trying to figure Draco out. It made him uncomfortable.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re examining me!”

Potter snorted. “I’m not examining you. I’m just trying to watch what you’re doing so I can retain something from class.” Draco couldn’t find fault with this so he added 7 porcupine quills and some powdered dragon claw and stirred vigorously, taking out his pent-up frustration on the potion instead of the black-haired boy sitting next to him. A beat of silence stretched out, and Potter fidgeted.

“If you really need something to do,” said Draco, inhaling deeply and trying to be patient, “Crush the bicorn horn.”

“Alright,” Potter said amicably, and grabbed the mortar and pestle.

Suddenly there’s the sound of glass shattering behind them and for the second time in two days Draco is blown backwards into a wall, a deafening roar in his ears. This time he didn’t crack his head, but he coughed as he breathed in black smoke, which clouded the room. The air is searing hot. He struggled to push himself up, but something loomed out of the haze and fell on him, knocking him back to the floor.

“Damn, sorry!” Potter’s sprawled across Draco’s body, his face inches from Draco’s. Wide grey eyes stare into vibrant green ones. Potter had nice eyes, thinks Draco woozily. He can’t seem to stop looking into them. Draco can feel the other boy’s warm palms on his shirt, from where he tried to brace his fall. Can feel every bit of Potter’s body pressed against his, can feel Potter’s heart beating erratically near his, can feel Potter’s warm breath on the shell of his ear-

“Get off!” Draco sputtered, and shoved him. His stomach was fluttering, and his face was flushed, and this was fucking ridiculous-

Potter fell to the side with a grunt and they both struggle to sit up. Draco’s eyes are drawn to the other boy almost instinctively, against his will, looking at pink lips and tan skin and those damn green eyes. No, no, no, thought Draco frantically. He cannot find Potter attractive. He hated him, for Merlin’s sake! He hated everything about Potter, from his black hair to his chiseled nose and oh god this needed to stop.

He sat up, facing away from Potter, and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Ok, he said to himself. Potter’s hot. So what? Lots of people are hot and annoying. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean you have a thing for him. It’s simple. And so what if Draco blushed? Everyone would blush if an attractive person fell on them. Didn’t mean anything, thought Draco determinedly, and resolved to treat Potter like nothing happened.

….

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, bracing his hand against the warm stone floor. His elbow ached where it had hit the ground when Malfoy had pushed him off. The room is still wreathed with tendrils of smoke, and he can hear people coughing. Malfoy’s sitting with his head between his knees a foot or two away, his back to Harry, whose head is still spinning. When the explosion first went off, he’d fallen over. When Harry had tried to get back up, he’d tripped over something and fallen on Malfoy.

It had been… weird, thought Harry. They’d been pressed up against one another, and his face had been right in front of Malfoy’s, close enough to have counted the individual blond eyelashes that framed Malfoy’s grey eyes. For a long moment they’d just looked at each other, both too stunned to think straight, but then the other boy’s eyes had widened and he’d shoved Harry off of him. Harry didn’t know why he was seeing that as a bad thing-it’s not like he wanted to be laying on Malfoy. But some obscure part of his brain had complained when Malfoy had unceremoniously pushed Harry away. Probably just because landing on the floor was more painful than landing on someone else, Harry thought, adjusting his glasses.

His thoughts were interrupted when the smoke cleared abruptantly. Professor Athme was standing in the middle of the room, wand raised, and as the haze cleared Harry felt cool, clean air wash over him and he inhaled gratefully. With another flick of her wand, the room reorganized itself and people struggle to their feet.

“That,” said Professor Athme dryly, “is what happens when you drop your jar of powdered dragon claw. Everyone please be more careful next class.” Harry blinked, suddenly grateful that he hadn’t been the one to cause the explosion, although he almost would have been if Malfoy hadn’t caught their jar before it rolled off the desk.

“Your homework is a foot on the properties of dragon claw and it’s uses,” announced the professor, and with a wave of her hand she dismissed them. Harry grabs his things and leaves, walking back up to the eighth year common room.

“Aurea Anthos.” The portrait swung open and Harry stepped inside and went over to a table where Hermione’s scribbling busily away on a long roll of parchment, two books propped open across from her. Harry sat down. “Hey, Hermione.”

“Oh-hey Harry.” she looked up at him and set down her quill. “Professor Vector assigned us a three-foot essay for homework.” Hermione pulled a face. “Class was quite fascinating, though. Did you get any homework?”

“A foot of Potions,” Harry replied. “On dragon claw. Damn, I’ll have to go to the library,” he adds, as he rifled through his Potions book. “Not enough stuff in here. Bye.”

“See you at dinner.”

Harry grabbed his bag and trekked down to the library. The corridors are relatively empty; he supposed everyone’s already in the library or their respective common rooms. Harry entered the decorative arch that’s the entrance to the library and began searching for a book on dragon claw. He paced up and down the quiet aisles, occasionally pulling a book out and checking the title. After ten minutes of fruitless searching, he jogged over to Madam Pince and asked her where he might find a book to help him.

“Dragon claw? Let me see. You’ll be wanting NEWT Level Animal Potions Ingredients. That book has the best collection of creature potions knowledge, although there are other books with tidbits of information here and there. Ah, but someone’s got it. That young man over there.” She pointed at a far table, and Harry saw the back of Malfoy’s blond head. He sighed.

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey.”

Harry didn’t know if it was worth it to go ask the other boy for the book. Malfoy had been more snappy today, reminding Harry of the spats they used to have when they were younger. It had irked him a little. He’d been trying to be nice-ish to Malfoy, and up until Potions Harry had thought Malfoy was doing the same thing. But then he’d fallen back into his insults, and Harry didn’t want to put up with that. They’ve already seen enough of each other today.

But Harry needed that damn book. He carefully approached the small table where the blond is writing until he’s standing behind him, then he cleared his throat.

“Hey- Malfoy?” The other boy jumped, and a bit of ink splattered on the table.

“Damn!” he exclaimed, turning around. “Oh, you.”

“Are you done with that book?” Harry said, trying to keep a neutral tone.

“Not yet.” Malfoy sniffed and turns back around. Harry pulled up a chair and sat at the table.

“Can we share it?” Malfoy paused, then sighed in what seemed to be annoyance and grudgingly nodded. He nudged the book over to Harry, and Harry started his work. 

They worked in silence for the better part of an hour, the book ping-ponging between them. Eventually Malfoy set down his quill and neatly rolled up his parchment and pushed the book one final time over to Harry’s side of the table.

“Here.” he said briskly, then collected his things and left. Harry glanced at him as he walked away. In Potions he had been so… well, Malfoy-ish. But just now he’d been alright. 

He’d obviously wanted Harry to leave, but he hadn’t said anything rude or belittling. Harry shook his head, pushing the puzzle of Malfoy and his erratic moods out of his head. He wanted to finish before dinner.

Harry ate in the Great Hall with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and he and Hermione head up early to the common room. Ron and Neville stay behind and join Dean and some of the other boys in a Quidditch discussion.

It’s wonderfully quiet in the common room, and Harry slumped onto a sofa, Hermione next to him.

“I’m so tired. That Potions essay drained my brain.”

“Go up early, then.” answered Hermione with a small smile. “I want to work on my knitting, anyway.”

“You sure you don’t want company?”

“I’ll be fine. Go and rest.”

Harry said good night and trudged up the stairs to his dorm. It’s blessedly empty, and Harry snorted when he saw that Malfoy’s bed is green.

“Of course Malfoy changes the colors of his sheets.” he muttered.

Harry can’t stop himself from yawning as he walked over to his bed.

He grabbed his toothbrush and went into the bathroom. When he’s done, he walked back into the dorm and took off his glasses to leave on his bedside table before climbing into bed and falling asleep.

_A harsh wind chills Harry’s skin, but he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, staring up through the grate at the scene above._

_“I once knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you, Draco.” implores Dumbledore. Malfoy stands opposite him, wand raised in a shaky hand. His eyes are screwed up and red._

_“I don’t want your help. Don’t you understand?” His voice cracks. “I have to do this. I have to kill you. Or they’re going to kill me.” But Harry sees his wand dipping, knows Malfoy won’t do it-_

_“Well well. Look what we have here.” Bellatrix walks up the staircase with a manic grin. Harry remembers every detail of this day. But the dream changes from his memory of that fateful night._

_“Do it!” hisses Bellatrix from behind Malfoy, but dream-Malfoy drops his wand._

_“I won’t,” he says._

_“Then you can die alongside him.” Bellatrix screeches, and in a flash of green light Dumbledore falls._

_“Avada Kedavra!” Malfoy crumples, but then he’s in a lake. The lake where they found the locket. And Fred, Lupin, Tonks, even little Colin Creevey. They all float face up in the dark water, and Harry’s still petrified, unable to move, as their corpses lunge for him, and he’s screaming, and from their gaping mouths they say his name-_

Harry bolted upright, panting hard. He could feel sweat beading on his brow, and he’s glad for the curtains around his bed so no one will see him like this. It’s pitch-dark, and he could hear the soft breathing of the other boys, asleep around him. Harry sighed quietly and pulled his knees to his chest. He knew sleep would not return to him that night. So he lay awake and watched the shadows flicker on the ceiling.


	4. Chapter 4

The week passed rather quickly, in Draco’s opinion. When he’s not in classes, he’s spending time either by himself, wandering lonely parts of the school, or with Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy. He’s quickly becoming close with Daphne, and Draco admitted to himself that he’s glad she decided to befriend him.

Every night he went up early, to avoid the other boys in his dorm, and downed a measure of the Dreamless Sleep potion he got from Pomfrey before getting in bed and spelling the curtains shut. In the morning, he always woke early and left, usually before any of the other boys are awake.

On Saturday morning, Draco slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable. Eventually he got up quietly, his light footsteps masked by the soft snoring coming from the other beds. He threw on a sweater and walked out of the school to the Owlery. It’s chilly, and the sky is still dark, in the time just before dawn. Draco could hear crickets chirping softly among the damp grass. The path up to the Owlery was rocky and steep, but Draco’s been up here so many times it didn’t bother him anymore.

When he reached the top of the rock spur that the tower is perched on, he entered and found the window that looked out over the Black Lake and sat, his legs hanging out of the window. The school owls hoot softly behind him, and one of them flew inquisitively to perch on Draco’s knee. It’s a handsome owl, with tawny feathers and keen yellow eyes, and he stroked it softly. The owl hooted quietly in appreciation.

Draco and the owl sit in the stone frame of the window and watch the sun rise. As he watched the sky lighten and paint itself with streaks of vivid colors, he puffed out a breath. He’s at peace up here, away from everyone. Some days he’s able to talk and congregate with other people, but on days like today he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. On days like today, his past swelled and swallowed him, and he had to find a place where he can be alone and remember all the horrible things he’s done, everything that happened. He knew many other students were in the war, and have put it behind them, but Draco’s never been able to do that.

On days like today, Draco hated himself. What he’s done.

His hand dropped as he watched the sky, and the owl flew off when he stopped stroking it. Draco’s chin dropped, and he breathed quick, shallow breaths. His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that darkness he saw his father, his mother, his aunt, Dumbledore, Luna Lovegood and everyone who’d been locked in the dungeons of his house…

Draco let the tear slip down his face, restraining the urge to rub at it and be angry with himself for crying. He’s tried that already. So he let himself sob quietly, bathed in the soft morning light.

Eventually he gave in and swabbed roughly at his eyes, then walked back out of the Owlery. It’s a beautiful day. The morning chill has dissolved, and the sun warmed his skin as he made his way down a small path. He didn’t know where he was going, but he would rather be out here than inside. Being outside calmed him. Things are simpler out here, thought Draco. Just the sun and the wind and the plants. He found a flat, eroded stone that jutted out into the lake. When he sat, it was pleasantly heated from the sun. Draco exhaled and closed his eyes.

He stayed there for the rest of the morning. When the heat became too much, he retreated into the border of the Forbidden Forest and entered a clearing not too deep inside. It’s   
filled with lush green plants and the soft chirping of hidden birds. Peaceful.

Draco hasn't been to the forest much since that night seven years ago when his eleven-year old self had gone in with Potter and Granger and Longbottom for detention. If he’s honest with himself he’s been scared of the forest. But this clearing is vastly different from the one deep in the woods. It’s close enough to the edge of the forest that he could still see the castle through the trees, and it’s bright and much more welcoming. It felt like a different place.

For the rest of the afternoon Draco stayed in the clearing and practiced his magic, safely hidden away from anything and everything. Including his memories.

When the sun sinks beyond the horizon Draco reluctantly left the clearing and hiked back up the path to the school for dinner, preparing himself to interact with other people again.

When he walked through the doors of the Great Hall, the crowds overwhelm him for a moment and Draco wanted nothing more than to escape to some forgotten corner of the castle. But before he could lose his nerve Daphne barreled down the aisle and jumped on him.

“Where the hell were you all day?” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. “We thought you’d died or something!”

Draco blinked, startled. It hadn’t occurred to him that people would wonder where he was, and the thought was disconcerting. But in a good way.

“Sorry to make you worry.” he responded, patting her awkwardly on the back. He eyed some Ravenclaws watching them curiously. His voice is slightly hoarse from not using it all day. “I was out.”

“Well, the next time you decide to disappear please leave a note.” replied Daphne indignantly, finally letting go of him. Draco gave her a small nod, still wondering over the fact that she had cared enough to notice his absence. The two walk up the aisle to the eighth year table and sat across from the other two Slytherins.

“Where’d you disappear to?” asked Blaise curiously, and Draco shrugged.

“Just out.” Blaise opened his mouth to question more, but Pansy put a hand on his arm.

“Leave it.” she chided softly, and met Draco’s eyes. He could see that she knows why he went off by himself, because he had done the same thing in sixth year and in a moment of   
vulnerability had confessed to her where he went and why. He shot a small smile her way, suddenly glad he has his friends back.

“I studied with Hermione today,” announced Daphne. “She’s very smart. Also quite nice.” Pansy snorted and Blaise elbowed her. “You should come with me tomorrow, Draco.”

“What?”

“She’s as smart as you. I think you two would be good friends if you didn’t dislike one another.” Now Blaise scoffed.

“Dislike is an interesting way of putting it. They bloody loathe one another.”

Draco huffed as he remembers the conversation he and Daphne had shared before Potions class earlier in the week. “Daphne, we’ve already talked about this. I don’t want her in   
my life and she sure as hell doesn’t want me in hers.” Daphne frowned.

“I just think having all this animosity isn’t good for you. Any of you,” she added when Blaise and Pansy glance at each other skeptically.

“Whether it’s good for us or not,” said Draco coolly, “we’ve lived with it for long enough and are perfectly fine.” He tried to make his tone patient, pushing back his slight annoyance when he remembered Daphne hugging him and wondering where he had been.

“Fine,” sniffed Daphne, but just like before, Draco could tell she hadn’t dropped the subject.

….

Harry spent his Saturday finishing up some Charms homework with Ron, and playing a few rounds of wizard chess, which Harry lost spectacularly at. Around mid-afternoon, Hermione joined them and they pick their way down the rough path to Hagrid’s hut.

“Hello, you three,” Hagrid said, clapping Hermione on the shoulder so that she almost falls over. “Tea?”

“Hello Hagrid,” replied Harry with a grin.

“Sure, we’ll have tea,” agreed Ron, and Hagrid lead them inside. Harry’s instantly comforted by the familiar, cozy surroundings. Hagrid set down three huge mugs and a tea kettle   
before fetching a tin of homemade toffee, and the three swap grins as they remember eating it and having their teeth glued together.

“How’ve you been, Hagrid?”

“And how’s Buckbeak?” chimed in Hermione.

“We’ve been good. I’ve been lookin’ to find Beaky a lady friend. Meant to talk to a bloke from Greece next week about a hippogriff, he has ‘em on a reserve.”

Ron snorted into his tea, and glanced at Harry with amusement. The last time Hagrid had wanted a lady friend for one of his charges, it had been for Grawp.

“How’s Grawp?” asked Harry, trying his own tea and finding it to have a strong flavor of pumpkin.

“He can speak some English now,” announced Hagrid proudly. “Much less prone ter tearin’ up trees now.”

“Well that’s good,” answered Ron in a tone of convincing sincerity. “Have you heard from Madam Maxime?” Hagrid blushed.

“Yeah, we spent the summer together in France. How were yer summers?” he added.

“Alright,” said Harry vaguely. “Nice and quiet.”

Hagrid nodded wisely. “Thas’ good. Reckon that was appreciated after all of last year.” Harry smiled.

They talk for a little while more, before Hagrid goes to feed Buckbeak and they tag along. They walk through the forest behind Hagrid’s hut until the trees open into a wide meadow, where tall grasses wave in the breeze and sunlight played over the ground.

“The unicorns like hanging out here. There’s one, o’er there.” commented Hagrid, pointing at a silvery-white shape that canters into the forest.

“Wow.” whispered Hermione softly. Hagrid whistled, and a small dot appeared in the sky, rapidly circling and becoming larger until Harry could make out Buckbeak’s winged form. 

The hippogriff landed a ways from them and thundered toward them.

“Hey, Buckbeak.” Hagrid boomed, tossing a dead ferret into the air. Buckbeak snapped it up and Harry’s eyes travel over the sharp yellow eyes, the blue-grey feathers, the clawed feet. He remembered the wonderful free sensation of flying astride Buckbeak and grinned.

Buckbeak tilted his head and cawed, one of his keen eyes fixed on Harry, who bowed without blinking. After a moment the hippogriff bowed back, sinking onto one leg, and Harry moved forward to stroke his beak.

“Good job, Harry,” said Hagrid, patting him on the head. Harry’s knees buckle and he stumbled. “Sorry ‘bout that,” apologized Hagrid, and Harry laughed.

“No problem.” he reassured.

Eventually Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back up to the school, Ron and Hermione holding hands. The sky is rapidly darkening as the sun lowered. The trio head into the Great Hall for dinner.

They sat at the eighth year table, and began to eat, chatting with the people around them. Suddenly there’s a loud exclamation of “Oh there he is!” and Daphne Greengrass launched herself up and ran down the main aisle. Harry turned his head, as do many people intrigued by the noise, in time to see her jump on a startled-looking Malfoy.

“What’s that all about?” said Ron in an undertone to Harry, who shrugged.

“Dunno.”

“I studied with her today. Daphne and the other girls from my dorm,” responded Hermione conversationally. “She said something about Malfoy being missing all day.”

“Are they dating or something?” asked Harry vaguely, still watching Daphne and Malfoy, who appeared to be being scolded by the blond girl.

“I don’t think so.” replied Hermione. “And speaking of my study sessions, I think you two should join us tomorrow. You still have to do that diagram for Herbology and the Astronomy chart.”

Ron groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Harry sighed. “Sure, ‘Mione.” he said, and resigned himself to a study session with Hermione, which he and Ron had actively avoided for the better part of three years. Hermione had a tendency to be very nit-picky when studying, and would insist on them quizzing her but keep snatching the book back, among other things.

But oh, well. It’s one study session. Not like much could happen.

After dinner, all of the eighth years were holed up in the common room. Harry’s on the sofa with Ron, Hermione, Neville and Dean, talking about the new professors.

“Good evening, students.” came Professor McGonagall’s voice from the portrait hole, and everyone looked up in surprise. The Headmistress smiled at their bemused expressions.

“No one’s in trouble. At the start of term I reminded you that I would come back in a week to discuss the exchange trip with Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.” A couple of people nodded. Harry perked up and listened.

“There are only ten spots open. To sign up you must put your name down. The sheet will be outside my office starting tomorrow morning. Now, this trip is only available for the eighth years. On October first, those going will take a Floo fire to Beauxbatons. You will return on February first.”

“Headmistress,” piped Parvati, “So if we go on the trip we won’t be able to return for Christmas break?”

“You would have to arrange your own modes of transportation to return for break, yes. But Beauxbatons does also have a Christmas break.”

Some people muttered at this, but Harry wasn’t that bothered. Usually he would spend Christmas at the Weasley’s, but he could give that up for a year.

“Now,” McGonagall continued. “To be eligible for this trip you must have no detentions-” everyone looked at Seamus, who scowled, “-and I strongly recommend this trip for those who wish to become Healers or teachers. Beauxbatons has excellent programs for both of these.”

“Headmistress?”

“Yes, Ms. Granger?”

“Are the core classes the same at Beauxbatons? Like Potions, Transfigurations, Charms, etcetera?” Harry smothered a grin. Only Hermione would actually use the word ‘etcetera’.

“Indeed they are, Ms. Granger. You will not have to do any catch-up work when you return. The material is the same. Now, I would like to remind you that tomorrow is the start of the student-teacher meetings. You would normally meet with your Head of House, but every eighth year will meet with me. The details of when will be on the notice board in the common room tomorrow morning.” And with that the Headmistress left, and there was a beat of silence before people began talking excitedly.

“I can’t go on this trip, then.” commented Ron. “Mum would kill me if I missed Christmas, it’s too expensive to get a Portkey.”

“It sounds lovely, but I think I might stay too,” said Hermione, with a slightly regretful look on her face. “Since I’m going to yours for Christmas.” She and Ron shared a loving look.

“I think I want to go,” said Harry thoughtfully, and Hermione instantly brightened.

“I think this’ll be good for you, Harry. Plus you could do the teaching program there! I remember how much you loved teaching the DA.”

Harry blinked at this idea. “I didn’t think about going into teaching. But.. yeah, I could. Good idea, Hermione.”

“Go for it, mate.” Ron grinned. “We’ll miss you, though.” Hermione nodded agreement.

“You’ll have to write to us.” she said, and Harry smiled.

“Yeah, every week if you want, ‘Mione. But let's save the good-byes until we know I actually have a spot on this trip, yeah?” Hermione laughed.

“Alright, then. Well, I think I’ll go up to bed now,” she announced, giving Ron a quick kiss. “And the both of you are still coming to my study group tomorrow. I am not letting you slack off on homework this year.”

Harry and Ron share a look, but smiled. “Yeah, yeah ‘Mione. Night.”

….

The next morning, Draco woke up early and donned his robes. Walking down to the common room, he smirked and rolled his eyes.

“I should have known.” he remarked. Daphne sat on one of the purple sofas, but bounded up and goes over to him.

“No more running away today, alright?” she teased, and Draco stiffened a bit but nodded. He saw her note his reaction and her eyebrows furrow the smallest bit.

“So,” he said, trying to change the subject. “Do you want to go have an early breakfast, or do you want to head up to the Headmistress’s office and snag two spots to France?” 

Daphne grinned at him and laced her arm through his as they start walking across the common room.

“Hell yes. I want to go on that trip. The Healer program’s supposed to be top-notch.” she replied as he pushed open the portrait and they step out.

“Honestly, I just want to go to get away.”

“You should do the Healer program with me!” Daphne said with a gleam in her blue eyes. Draco laughed. “No, really. I think you’d be good at it. You care about people more than you let show.”

Draco rolled his eyes at that last comment. “We’ll see.” They reach the revolving griffin staircase and pinned on the wall next to it, just as promised, is the list. Daphne took out a quill and they wrote their names in the first two spots.

“Well anyway. Maybe we can find you a French girl to cheer you up.” Draco cleared his throat somewhat nervously. Some people know he’s bent, but he’s never outright told anyone. Blaise and Pansy only know because they were part of the crowd that walked in on him and Theo. Daphne probably wouldn’t know, though, since they just got close.

“I’m gay. Actually.” Draco said carefully, and looked at Daphne out of the corner of his eye.

“A French boy, then. Find one for me too while you’re at it.” Draco smiled, and the small bit of stress Draco had felt melted away. They walk down the corridor, and Daphne slipped her hand into Draco’s.

“I’m honored you told me,” she said softly, and patted his arm before letting go of his hand. Draco smiled again and tugged a strand of her hair.

“Better you hear it from me than from Pansy or Blaise.”

“When did you tell them?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell them,” amended Draco. “Them and a bunch of other Slytherins walked into the common room after dinner sixth year and found me and Theodore Nott making out on the sofa. It was embarrassing as hell.” Daphne snorted as the two turn into the Great Hall.

“I don’t know if anything like that has ever happened to me in the romance department, thankfully,” said Daphne while she pours herself coffee. The Great Hall is almost entirely empty, dotted here and there with a few early risers, but their table is completely deserted apart from them.

“Oh! I do remember one time. It was during summer vacation three years ago, and my parents and Astoria and I were in Switzerland. There was this handsome bloke working at a shop there a year older than me-”

“Ooch, scandalous.” Draco interrupted with a smirk.

“-and Astoria walked in on us kissing, only my parents kept her dreadfully sheltered so she didn’t know what it was. So I go with her back to where we were staying, and she goes, ‘Mummy, Daphne was touching mouths with someone! Can I do that?’ and it was terrible.”

Draco snickered. “That’s almost worse than my story.” The pair talk for a little while longer over breakfast, before leaving when people begin to enter in full force.

“Oh, Draco?” called Daphne as they go their separate ways. “Can you meet me in the library around two? I found a book we can use for the Transfiguration homework.” He eyed her with suspicion. She’s definitely been planning something since yesterday.

“Alright,” he agreed casually, but planned to show up prepared. Draco Malfoy does not have things sprung on him.

He hung out with Pansy in the common room after lunch until the clock struck 1:55.

“Shit, I have to go meet Daphne,” he said, standing and grabbing his schoolbag.

“Buh-bye.” Pansy fluttered her fingers, and Draco rolled his eyes and waved back at her before leaving. He’s glad for the three friends he has. It didn’t occur to him how much he missed Pansy and Blaise until they were out of his life. He thought fondly of Blaise and his quiet, snide comments, and how he was so good at observing people that he would spontaneously expose random facts about them. It was very entertaining.

And Pansy, with her confident, brash, uncaring way of life. She was quite cunning, and always would happily join Draco in nagging this person or that. She was also the one he had been closest too, and confided in the most. She had understood his problems, understood him. She still did, and Draco was oddly comforted by that.

He entered the library, smiled when he saw Daphne, then stopped abruptly. He had forgotten about Daphne’s bloody study group, with Granger in it. Now it all made sense. He closed his eyes in exasperation. She was a good friend, she was, but she didn’t know when to stop.

Daphne came up to him and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she whispered when Draco planted his feet.

“Not bloody likely!” he replied in an angry whisper. “You planned this, didn’t you, you twat? I told you to drop it. Why can’t you just respect my choices?” He saw Granger watching them, and her expression faded to one of distaste when her eyes met Draco’s.

“Just trust me!”

“Why should I give a rat’s ass what you say?”

“Because I know you want to be a better person, and I know you can be a better person. This is the first step on that path. Pansy told me why you leave on days like yesterday-”

Draco narrowed his eyes furiously. “That is none of your business. Merlin, I’m going to murder Pansy-”

“Daphne?” Granger stood behind them. “Why is he here?” Draco saw Potter and Weasley sitting next to Sue Li and Padma Patil behind the bushy-haired girl. This keeps getting bloody worse, thought Draco in disgust.

“I was just leaving.” said Draco coolly, with a nasty look at Daphne.

“Actually, I wanted him to join us.” Daphne announced, and both Granger and Draco glare at her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” replied Granger, none too delicately.

“For once, I agree with Granger.” added Draco.

“Will you two just trust me?” pleaded Daphne, and Draco’s anger subsided the smallest bit. Granger sighed in exasperation and walked back to the group on the sofa. Draco felt like sighing too. He could try to leave, but he and Daphne would make such a scene that soon everyone would be nosing into his business.

“Aren’t you sorry for what you’ve done in the past?”

“...kind of.”

“Just tell them that, then!”

“If this goes badly I will hex you,” whispered Draco to Daphne, and, unable to think of other options, let her drag him over to the study group.

….

Harry and Ron are seated on either side of Hermione, with Sue Li and Padma Patil nearby. They all watch apprehensively as Daphne tugged Malfoy over to them, and the two awkwardly sat across from Harry.

Harry could tell that Malfoy didn’t want to be here. He was eyeing Daphne resentfully, and she still had a tight grip on his arm. It was an odd situation, thought Harry. Why had Daphne forced Malfoy to come?

The blond girl whispered in Malfoy’s ear, and he snapped something under his breath. Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. There was a very big chance that this would end in some sort of conflict- Harry could almost feel the tension that was so tightly strung around them. Daphne stood up, and when Malfoy stood as well she shoved him back down, and Ron stifled a snort at the look on the blond boy’s face.

“Sue, Padma, can you come help me find something?” asked Daphne, and the two girls quickly got up and follow her away, not looking at all sorry to depart the scene. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are left awkwardly staring at Malfoy, who’s still watching Daphne walk away with a sulky expression. Then he sighed, and looked up at the ceiling as if casting a quick prayer before meeting Harry’s gaze.

“So. I’d like to.. apologize.” muttered Malfoy, and Harry can almost see him forcing the words out. Was this why Daphne had brought him here? So she could make Malfoy apologize to them? But why, what did she get out of it? wondered Harry.

“I don’t want an apology that you don’t really mean,” Hermione said, her voice like steel. Malfoy fiddled with his sleeves, and Harry with a pang of amusement realized this is the first time he’s seen Malfoy feel awkward and not his usual aloof self.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be here if Daphne hadn’t dragged me,” answered Malfoy, somewhat grudgingly. “But I do feel sorry for how I’ve treated you in the past. I’m sorry I was such a brat, and that I called you a Mudblood. It wasn’t right. And I am sorry that I couldn’t stop my aunt from hurting you.” Hermione observed him stonily, but Harry saw her fingers stray to a place on her arm, where he knew the scar from Bellatrix lay under her shirtsleeve.

“Weasley, I’m sorry for insulting you and your family. And any role I might’ve… might’ve played in your brother’s death.” Malfoy said in a rush, and Harry saw that his hands are clenched so tightly together that they’re turning a deathly white. Ron said nothing, but his face tightened- but from grief or anger Harry can’t tell. Finally Malfoy turned to Harry.  
“And I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. The insults, and everything else.” he said, bowing his head. There’s a silent pause.

“At your...home,” broached Hermione, her tone a bit softer now. “Why did you try to protect Harry? You knew it was him.” Malfoy let out a brittle sigh and when he lifted his head again, his eyes are haunted. Harry fought the urge to look away and relive the memories flooding his own head at the mention of that day when Hermione was tortured, and Dobby died.

“I guess… I guess I just wanted it to be over. I wanted Lovegood out of the cell, I wanted all the Death Eaters out of my house.” Malfoy spoke to the floor, and Harry’s astounded at the raw emotion pouring from him. That, and the fact that he had cared enough about Luna to want her in a better place.

And of course the simple fact that Malfoy was willingly telling them this was just… bloody insane.

“And I didn’t want anyone else dead. I guess I knew you were the best bet at… at a better world. And I was too scared for my mother, my father to break away on my own.” he finished quietly. Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron and their surprised expression match his own.

“Luna said you talked to her. Brought her salve and food.” Ron spoke up suddenly, and Malfoy looked at him.

“Yes.” he said shortly, and Harry could see the walls coming back down between them. Malfoy’s embarrassed. He stared at the floor again, a pink flush in his cheeks. If Harry had to guess, he hadn’t meant to say so much and now regretted it.

“Alright. Apology accepted.” Harry said, and with a look at him Ron and Hermione echo his words. Malfoy nodded uncertainly, and turned to leave. The trio watch him exit the library, and Daphne rushed after him, throwing a hurried smile their way.

“Well. That was unexpected.” stated Hermione flatly, and Harry laughed.

“Not so much unexpected as bloody insane,” Ron replied. “I reckon you two might be onto something, he has changed some. Still a git, though.”

Harry snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile, Ron’s comment having diffused the tension a bit.

“While I wouldn’t put it the way Ronald did,” said Hermione dryly, “I feel the same way. Yes, he apologized, and yes, it seemed like he actually meant it, but he’s still Malfoy. Unless he does something more I’ll treat him the same as ever. Now-” she clapped her hands- “You two need to do your work still. Let’s start.”

Harry nodded agreement vaguely. He can’t get the haunted look in Malfoy’s eyes out of his mind. Because it’s so similar to what he sees in another person’s face. His own.

That night, Harry dreamed again.

_He’s at the graveyard in Little Hangleton. It’s eerily still and quiet. There’s almost no light, as there’s a new moon. The shadows are long and dark and the trees surrounding the graveyard look sinister, the branched twisted and knarled like reaching claws._

_“Harry….” A whisper sounds. It comes from all around him, in multiple alien voices. He spins, looking wildly for the source._

_“Harry Potter…” Harry turns slowly, dread building in his heart. Red slitted eyes loom out of the blackness._

_“Voldemort,” he whispers. “But you’re dead. I killed you. This is a nightmare.”_

_Tom Riddle, identical to the memory Harry had fought in second year, appears, taking slow, measured steps towards him, a malicious smile on his face. “Oh Harry,” he says._

_“Don’t you remember what Dumbledore said?” Quirrell comes toward him, Voldemort’s face on the back of his head facing Harry as it hisses._

_“Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry…” Voldemort, in his own body, as Harry saw him last raises the Elder Wand._

_“But why should that mean it’s not real?” they all hiss, and then green light is flashing and Harry hears his mother screaming and sees Cedric, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Dumbledore lying dead on the ground-_

“Potter!”

Harry jolted awake with a gasp. Malfoy pulled his hand away from Harry’s shoulder. It’s darker in the room now. Harry can barely make out the other boy’s pale eyes. He inhaled deep breaths.

“You were yelling,” explained Malfoy, his tone unreadable.

“Sorry,” whispered Harry. The other boys still aren’t back, and he and Malfoy are alone in the dormitory. Harry’s glad for that. He didn’t want to wake everyone up. Malfoy went back to his bed.

“Dreamless Sleep helps. With the nightmares,” said Malfoy quietly a few moments later. “I get mine from Pomfrey.” Harry blinked in surprise. So he’s not the only one with nightmares. It’s oddly comforting to know that.

It’s also odd that Malfoy even told him that, because the Malfoy Harry knew would never show anything that exposed any sort of vulnerability. But the events at the library today have already shown him that Malfoy had changed.

Harry appreciated this brief moment in which he and Malfoy shared this one thing, knowing that in the morning the other boy will probably act like this never happened.  
“Thanks.” he replied. They’re both quiet. He wondered if this change in Malfoy is around to stay. He wouldn't mind, it makes him easier to talk to; and the moments of vulnerability in the other boy remind Harry that he’s not the only person with scars, visible and not. Thinking on this takes his mind off of his nightmare, and eventually he rolled over and succumbed to sleep once more.


	5. Chapter 5

When Draco awoke on Monday morning, he yawned and stretched slowly before sitting up. What classes did he have today? Oh, yes, he remembered, Transfiguration, and Potions, where he sat next to Potter.

Fuck, Potter. Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands as the events of yesterday came rushing back in. Why, oh why had he poured out his soul to Potter, Weasley, and Granger? He had been preparing to give some simple answer like “I didn’t want you to die” but then he’d lifted his head, heavy with the weight of all of the things in his past, and seen Potter’s piercing green eyes, and he had just started talking. Talking honestly. He had said way too fucking much. It was like he’d drunk Veritaserum.

I mean, at least they’d accepted his sad attempts at an apology, mused Draco, pushing away his embarrassment. Not that he really knew what that entailed. Bloody hell, classes were going to be awkward as fuck. Every time he thought of Potter or Granger an image of himself talking about his bloody feelings came into his head and he cringed. What had come over him? He’d stopped looking at Potter when he answered Granger, but even when he’d stared at the ground he’d still seen those gorgeous eyes in front of him. He’d been speaking to Potter, really. Not that anyone would ever know that.

And when he’d left the library, he’d been so furious with himself for divulging so much. Daphne had run up to him and Draco had snapped at her, although he hadn’t hexed her like he’d promised. When she’d asked what was wrong, he’d burst out that he’d acted like a dewy-eyed girl and talked about feelings and she’d laughed at him. Then his anger had blown it’s top and he’d stormed off, calling her a fucking liar over his shoulder.

To be fair, she had lied to him. And forced him to do something he’d adamantly refused to do. He was definitely allowed to yell at her. Draco intended to ignore her today, because even if she was right and some small something had lifted off his shoulders, like he’d done something right for once, he’d embarrassed himself like never before. Which might not be her fault but it was her fault he was there in the first place. Daphne’s fault that Draco had seen Potter and Weasley and Granger and Potter with bright eyes and nice skin and wonderfully muscled arms and-

Draco exhaled in frustration. “Keep your shit together today.” he whispered forcefully to himself. This would all be so much easier if Potter looked like Weasley. Draco would have no problems then.

Draco decided he does not like at all feeling awkward. From a young age his father had taught him to always be cool and collected, to know everything that went on around you, to gain respect and power.

But everything from those lessons was out the window now. Rule after rule that Draco had always lived by, well, it’s safe to say he’d sped through them. And now he didn’t know at all where to begin.

Transfiguration passed agonizingly slow, and Draco cold-shouldered Daphne the whole class. He did feel a bit bad about it, but he’s waiting for a better apology. At lunch he only talked to Blaise, still furious that Pansy told Daphne about something that was none of her business.

And now… now Draco’s seated next to Potter in Potions, and he didn’t really know how to act. From the looks of it, neither does Potter. They’re both treading lightly around each other, and Draco wanted nothing more than to leave this horrible situation.

“So,” began Potter after ten minutes of silence, sweeping a hand through his dark hair, “You’re going to France?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Me too.” Draco wanted to knock his head on the table. This is worse than bickering, worse than being nice. This is just horrendous. Even the knowledge that Potter will be at Beauxbatons with him isn’t enough to distract him from the awkwardness that practically coats both of them.

“Stop trying to be nice or whatever you’re doing. It’s awful.” ordered Draco, and Potter blinked, his lips curving into a small smile. Stop looking at his mouth, you will not be distracted that easily, Draco told himself.

“Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t really know how to talk to me anymore.” answered Draco wryly.

“Yeah.”

There’s another silence, and Draco peeked at Potter out of the corner of his eye. The other boy is watching him curiously, and Draco flushed and stared at his desk.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” he said. Damn! There he went again, slipping up and talking about how he feels. His parents would be utterly disappointed if they knew the events of the past day or two.

But Draco couldn’t help it. It was like ever since he’d talked in the library yesterday, he kept messing up and admitting things that he, for the better part of seven years, had kept buried within. Even a simple “I don’t know.” He’d always thought that saying things like that or showing your true feelings would leave you vulnerable, and others would only use it to exploit you. But that wasn’t what was happening right now. Maybe his father had been wrong about this, too.

It was hard to try to change how he thought about this, though. To not call people weak for showing emotions and vulnerabilities. For trusting.

“Malfoy.” Draco snapped out of his thoughts and met Potter’s eyes. They’re wide and earnest and so different from the glares he’s usually directed at Draco.

“Yes?” he answered, a little nervously.

“Can we truce? I think both of us are tired of the rivalry. I’d rather not have it.”

“Are you asking me to be friends, Potter?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Just to truce. To stop hating each other. We’ve both changed. But we can be friends if you want,” Potter held out a hand with a grin, and that simple gesture transported Draco   
back to the fateful day seven years ago, when his eleven-year old self had extended the offer of friendship, and been rebuked.

"Changed your mind, have you?" Draco replied wryly. Potter looked confused until Draco adopted a lofty tone and said, "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." 

Draco was surprised when Potter burst out laughing, the bright sound filling up the room. And even more surprised that he felt _good_ knowing he was the cause of Potter _laughing_.

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” said Potter finally, out of breath. Draco rolls his eyes.

“Of course I remember it. That was when everything started. And- alright. Truce.”

“Alright.” repeated Potter, a gleam in his eye.

“You’re still fetching the ingredients for me, Potter. We need crushed unicorn horn. And please don’t drop it.” Draco said, but unlike their previous classes, his voice has no bite to it.

Potter grinned again, and it caught him off guard. Potter’s never smiled at him before today, and it made his heart do a funny flop as Potter headed off.

….

“Let me get this straight.” exclaimed Ron. “You truced? With Malfoy?”

“Yeah.” replied Harry, shrugging.

“And he agreed to it?” asked Hermione curiously.

“Yeah, he did. We shook hands and everything.” Harry said. “I don’t really know why I did it. I guess mainly I just wanted to not have Potions be awkward, neither of us really knew how to talk to each other after he apologized. So I figured, you know, he made an effort, however small. I could try to as well.” He leaned back on his bookbag and his hands brush the grass. He, Ron, and Hermione are outside after class, high up on the hill that sloped down to the lake, enjoying the last of the summer warmth.

Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face. “I think it’s… interesting. To see exactly how much he’s changed. And if he’s nicer to you, that’s good.”

Ron frowned skeptically. “Could he really have changed that much, though?”

“Well, he doesn’t call me Mudblood anymore. He’s apologized to us, doesn’t insult… I think some things have changed for the better.” answered Hermione. “Let’s just see what happens.”

Later that afternoon, Harry returned to the castle to have his career meeting with Headmistress McGonagall. He stopped in front of the griffin staircase, and while he waited for it to go all the way to the top he perused the trip sign up list. Harry had signed up yesterday, before he and Ron had joined Hermione in the library, but the list was full now. Malfoy, Daphne, Padma, Parvati, Hannah, Susan, Sue Li, Dean, Micheal Corner, Ernie Macmillan, and Harry. It’ll be different, three months without Ron and Hermione, Harry thought. But interesting as well. And it’ll be bloody wonderful to have some small semblance of anonymity.

He jogged up the staircase and knocked on the door of the Headmistress’s office. He still thought of it as Dumbledore’s. When a brisk “Come in,” sounds, he pushed open the door and saw McGonagall seated behind an ornate wooden desk. Harry is struck for a second at how almost nothing’s changed. Dumbledore’s random contraptions still lie around, and a consistent low whirring fills the room. Fawkes’s post still stood near the desk, and the portraits still cover the walls. Harry sees Phineas Nigellus, with a haughty expression, and then Dumbledore, who smiled tenderly at Harry, who’s eyes felt dangerously close to tears.

McGonagall is watching him with a motherly expression. “Fawkes is still here as well. He’s out flying.” she said gently, and Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He nodded, and sat down, not trusting his voice.

“So do you have any idea of where you want to go after school?” asked McGonagall. She slid a plate of biscuits across the table. “Have a biscuit, Potter.” Harry smiled and took a   
Ginger Newt.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but Hermione suggested being a teacher, like how I taught the DA, and I liked that idea.” he said, taking a bite of the biscuit.

“I believe Ms. Granger could be correct, I think you would be fit for the career of a professor. I saw you signed up for the trip, I recommend you take the teacher’s program at Beauxbatons, Potter.”

“I will.” A few minutes later he grabbed a biscuit for the road and left, feeling comforted by all of the familiar things. Suddenly he remembered Malfoy’s advice, and Harry made a quick detour to the hospital wing to ask Madam Pomfrey for Dreamless Sleep. She smiled kindly and gave him some, and he walked back to his dorm to deposit the potion there before dinner. 

For the first time in weeks, Harry slept through the night.

The next morning Harry arrived at Charms class with Ron and Hermione. Professor Flitwick’s standing on a tall stack of books.

“Good morning, Professor Flitwick.” greeted Hermione as they take their seats.

“Hello, Ms. Granger!” he replied squeakily. The rest of the class streamed in through the door, and Harry’s eyes are drawn to Malfoy when he enters, trailed by Blaise Zabini. They sat across from Harry and Ron. “Good morning to you all! Today we will be taking notes on and debating the properties of Healow’s 4 Laws for elemental charms. Now, if…” Harry quickly stopped understanding any of the words coming out of the professor’s mouth, and Ron leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Let’s just ask Hermione later.” he muttered, and Harry nodded agreement. Ten minutes go by, and more than half of the class looked as lost as Harry felt. He glanced to his right and saw Hermione scribbling away, and hastened to look like he’s taking notes, but the only thing that came to mind were Oliver Wood’s Quidditch maneuvers to use against Ravenclaw, so Harry wrote those down slowly as Professor Flitwick continued to talk.

“...now we will debate. Your topic is which of Healow’s laws is most important and why! Groups of five, students! I will come around and divide you up.” Professor Flitwick hopped down from his stack of books and moved among the desks. Harry could track him by his white hair, which is all he could see of the professor as he walked to and fro across the room. “Granger, Potter, Weasley, Zabini, Malfoy!” he announced loudly when he reached them. Ron sighed and muttered something under his breath, and Harry nudged him as the two Slytherin’s make their way over to the Gryffindors. Malfoy perched on an empty desk next to Harry, and Zabini stood next to him.

“I think that the second law is the most important,” announced Hermione, her arms crossed and a firm set to her jaw, obviously not expecting anyone to contradict her. Harry   
didn’t expect anyone to, either, but Malfoy retorted.

“That’s wrong, Granger. Third law is the most important.” Hermione looked him up and down with thinly veiled contempt; she might’ve accepted his apology but she still didn’t like him, especially when he was telling her she was wrong.

“No, because when the laws are applied to all basic and advanced elemental charms you see that the second law is the most widely seen and….” Hermione began a long and windy explanation, but when she’s done, Malfoy embarked on an equally complicated tirade and soon the two of them are bickering back and forth. Harry and Ron are left in the dust, the fancy words flying in one ear and out the other.

“Blimey,” whispered Ron, “I’ve never seen anyone debate with Hermione like this.” Harry nodded agreement, and Blaise overheard them.

“He’s always been like this,” he commented, jerking his head at Malfoy, who’s gesturing wildly with his hands while he talks. “Too smart for the rest of us to keep up.” Harry’s a   
little surprised at Blaise’s nonchalant tone; he’s never heard him talk without a sneer or contempt in his voice.

“Hermione’s the exact same.” replied Harry somewhat carefully, and Blaise snorted and shook his head in amusement.

The three boys watch Malfoy and Hermione go back and forth. Both of them are talking fast and seem to be enjoying it; Hermione and Malfoy have a gleam in their eyes that Harry associated with Hermione’s manic studying before end of year tests.

Class ended and the two are still debating. Blaise has to shake Malfoy’s shoulder to make him stop.

“Oi!”

“What?”

“Class ended. You two can stop now.” Malfoy rolled his eyes but left with Blaise, and Hermione smiled sheepishly as she headed back over to Harry and Ron.

“Have a nice time?” asked Harry with a grin.

“Weirdly enough, yes. I mean, he’s Malfoy, but it’s nice talking to someone who’s...” she struggled for the right word.

“Who’s as smart as you.” finished Ron with a roll of his eyes and a smile. Hermione laughed.

“If you want to put it that way.” she replied poshly, and they leave for lunch.

….

That evening Draco plunked down next to Daphne for dinner and for only the fourth time in his life, apologized to someone who wasn’t his parents. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and now Daphne.

“I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I think you were right. Yesterday Potter and I declared a truce, and I just had a rather enjoyable conversation with Granger… and I’m sorry that I yelled at you,” he said, all in one breath, and Daphne smiled and mussed his hair.

“Nothing to forgive,” she replied warmly. Her words hit Draco directly in the heart. Nothing to forgive. But he’s done so many horrible things, and even though he knows that she wasn’t talking about the things he’s done in the past, some part of him still wonders why. Why people still want to be his friend.

But he shoved these thoughts aside and managed a grin as Daphne began chattering away and they eat.

One day later he’s in the library with Daphne and her study group. The previous night in the common room, to everyone’s amazement, Granger had walked up to Draco and asked him to join them tomorrow. He’d blinked in surprise but accepted her invitation, and Daphne had looked so excited and happy for him that it wiped all of the small worries from his mind.

“Hermione,” began Sue Li, frowning at a book. “Does this say that Muggles can fly? In space?” Granger nodded with an amused expression.

“Wait a minute. That’s impossible. Muggles can’t go up in space!” Draco exclaimed incredulously.

“They can, Malfoy. Astronauts- that’s what the people that go up in space are called- go up in huge rockets. People have walked on the moon. There’s an American flag on the moon now. And Muggles have also sent out spacecraft that they control from Earth to explore things farther away, like Jupiter.”

Draco’s struck dumb. He can’t believe it. Muggles. In space. On the moon.

“They did all that without magic?” he said, his disbelief giving way to curiosity.

“Yep. Muggle technology is really advanced.”

Draco sat back in his chair to ponder all this and there’s a pause. Granger watched him, and he can see in her eyes that she’s waiting for him to insult her, or Muggles. He would expect it of himself, honestly. But things have changed.

“That’s- really interesting, actually.” he announced, and Granger smiled slightly.

“If you want I can try to show you a video.”

“What’s a video?” She blinked before laughing, and Draco scowled at her. “Don’t laugh at me, Granger.”

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s just I always forget that wizards don’t know anything about Muggles. A video’s like a sort of moving portrait, but it’s a scene from the past that’s recorded on Muggle technology. Let me see if I can get a signal in here.” Granger fished in her bag and took out a small, very slim black box. She pressed a button, and one side of the box lit up.

“What is that? How’d it light up?” exclaimed Draco. Muggles were apparently a lot smarter and more innovative than he’d always thought, if they could do all these things without magic.

“It’s a smartphone. Powered by batteries and electricity, though I power mine with magic when I need it. Muggles use them to talk to each other and lots of other things.” A smartphone. Interesting. I suppose they have to invent things like this, thought Draco, since they don’t have Floo Powder or owl post like wizards do. Granger tapped and tapped,   
and Draco watched the lit-up portion of the box change with fascination.

“Normally Muggle technology doesn’t work around magic, but sometimes it will. There we go.” She extended the phone to Draco, who held it gingerly. It’s smooth like metal, or plastic, and on the screen is a moving scene of a man in a bulky white suit taking big, leaping strides across some ground of white-ish grey rock. “That’s Neil Armstrong. He’s on the moon. That’s why he can jump like that, gravity is lessened there.”

“That’s the moon? That rocky stuff?”

“Yeah.” Draco watched the phone in awe as the video plays, Daphne looking curiously over his shoulder. Suddenly the video ended and words popped up. Granger took the phone back. “Damn, lost the signal.” she said, and tucked it in her bag. “Well anyway, that’s what it looks like.” Draco’s buzzing with curiosity, both at the video and the phone, and began questioning Granger more about other things that Muggles can do.

“They can fly! In metal birds!” he exclaimed to Daphne later, as they walk back to the common room. She smiled.

“You’re so adorable when you get excited.” she said, and Draco scowled.

“Don’t call me adorable, you loon.” he retorted. “Just- it’s interesting, what Muggles can do without magic.”

“Adorable.” repeated Daphne, shaking her head, and laughed when Draco told her to shut up.

When they enter the common room Blaise hailed them, and Pansy is by his side. Draco eyed her. He hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her about what she’d told Daphne about him, but she obviously knew how he felt from the nervous look on her face and her hands twisting together in her lap.

“Hey,” said Daphne, perching on a sofa arm. Draco gently shoved her over to make room and sat down next to her, greeting Blaise.

“I’m really sorry, Draco,” began Pansy forlornly, and Blaise and Daphne quiet. Draco stared stonily at her, his happier mood dissipated. He'd forgiven Daphne, but he considered what Pansy had done to be different. He'd thought he could trust her with something personal.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry.” he said coldly, and Daphne toed the ground next to him.

“It wasn’t her fault, Draco,” she replied quietly. “I kept prying and she didn’t mean to tell me. Even when she did all she said was that sometimes you need time by yourself because-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Draco hissed, his eyes darting around. “Do you want everyone to know? It’s none of your business. Any of you.” Daphne opened her mouth to talk, then closed it and looked at Pansy. Blaise appeared confused, and Draco remembered he didn’t know.

He set his jaw. Draco never should’ve told any of them. Father was right, nothing good ever came of divulging things like this, it just made you vulnerable and it’ll come back and hurt you later. He made the mistake of confiding in Pansy, and now she had blabbed and Daphne had tried to use the information to convince him to ‘be a better person’. Merlin, he wished he’d just stormed out of the library. Talking to Granger and Potter was not something he needed badly enough that he would willingly put up with this shit.

Draco stood up and left, walking quickly to the stairs that lead to his dorm. He ignored Daphne calling his name and the curious stares from the other eighth years, and entered the dorm, slamming the door behind him. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, thoughts rushing through his head like a waterfall. He’s so furious with himself, and with the two girls downstairs.

But the thing that scared him the most is that he still wanted to confide in someone, even now. He wanted someone to comfort him, to understand him, to tell him it’s alright. His mother stopped doing that a long time ago, but Draco missed it. Tears seep down his cheeks and he swiped at them, disgusted with himself for crying like a weakling. He’s shaking. The longing and anger and disgust sweep through him, leaving him empty, alone.

….

Harry’s watching Malfoy stab a Shrivelfig. They’re back in Potions, brewing Pepper-Up, but Malfoy hadn’t spoken a word or even looked at Harry. There’s a blank expression on his face, and his robes are rumpled, his hair is messy. These two things alone could tell Harry that something’s bothering the blond boy. Malfoy stabbed with the silver knife, and the point stuck in the cutting board. He yanked at it forcefully until it came out.

“Er. Malfoy?” said Harry tentatively. There’s a flash of grey eyes as Malfoy looked at Harry, then back down. Malfoy dropped the Shrivelfig in the cauldron and reached for the next thing. “I didn’t make you mad, did I?” prodded Harry carefully.

“No.” Malfoy responded emotionlessly, cutting up plant roots. Harry waited for him to elaborate, but isn’t surprised when he didn’t. Harry did have an inkling of what this might be about; last night in the common room Malfoy had stormed up the stairs to the dorms, leaving the other three Slytherins behind. When Harry and Dean and Neville had gone up to bed, Malfoy’s curtains had been firmly shut and he’d left before the other boys had awoken in the morning.

Hermione had told him and Ron about her time with Malfoy and Daphne in the library, about how she had explained astronauts and airplanes to him. She’d had to backtrack and actually explain them to Ron, who demanded to know, before he muttered that Malfoy was turning into his dad. Harry had chuckled, knowing Arthur Weasley would’ve been just as enthusiastic as Hermione had described Malfoy to be, although Ron’s dad already knew about airplanes and probably astronauts as well.

Harry had wanted to bring it up to Malfoy, because he was curious about the sudden fascination with Muggles. The Slytherin had insulted the non-magic people loads of times, called Hermione Mudblood because she was Muggleborn, yet now was drinking down information on muggle technology? Hermione had agreed that it had shocked her, but that it was another example of how he had changed.

“Especially,” she had pointed out, “since his father is no longer influencing him. If you think about it, he grew up only hearing that Muggles were scum. So of course when he gets to Hogwarts, he’s going to think that. But now that he has the chance to see different perspectives, different influences, maybe he’s decided that he disagrees with his parents. I’m not condoning what he’s done over the years, but there is a reason behind why he was the way he was.” Harry had thought on her words before he’d gone to sleep, and decided she was right. How had he not thought of this before?

He’d deduced that in the past it had been easier to accept that Malfoy was horrible and not to think of why Malfoy was horrible. But now that Hermione had talked about it, he had made some conclusions of his own. Malfoy was influenced by his parents and the pureblood society who looked down on everyone else, then in sixth year, when he’d tried to kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would’ve killed him and his parents if he failed. He remembered what Malfoy had said to Dumbledore, up on the Astronomy Tower.

“I don’t need your help! I have to do this. I have to kill you. Or he’s going to kill me.”

So Harry was now of the same mindset as Hermione. Yes, Malfoy had been a git and made bad decisions, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. And he had changed, it was obvious. Harry remembered another girl’s words about Malfoy, Daphne’s words when he’d asked her why she decided to befriend Malfoy.

“He looked like he needed a friend.”

So Harry, with an inner prayer, channeled his inner Luna, who’s the friendliest person he knows. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, and Malfoy glanced at him again.

“No,” he answered, but his tone is a little softer now.

“Alright,” Harry slid the cutting board over to his side of the desk and took the knife, continuing Malfoy’s chopping.

“I was doing that.” Malfoy pointed out, and there’s a faint shadow of indignation in his voice. Harry smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, but the way you were cutting, you would’ve chopped off a finger and not even noticed. I’ll finish.”

“You aren’t dicing it properly, Potter.” protested Malfoy, sounding more like his old self. “You’re making it too big.”

“I’ll fix it,” promised Harry. “You start the next step.” Malfoy blinked, probably because for once Harry is telling Malfoy what to do in Potions and not the other way around, but he nodded and began pouring a measure of some blue liquid. The two boys work together in silence, occasionally saying something to the other in regards to the potion. But Harry didn’t mind the quiet. It’s a comfortable silence, like when he and Ron had finished talking before bed, back when they were still in the Gryffindor common room.

“Splendid job, boys.” commented Professor Athme as she passed by. “When you’ve finished, get a phial of the potion for each of you and bring it up to the front for grading.”

Malfoy sprinkled the last ingredient in, and Harry got two phials and handed one to the other boy.

“Is it good?” he asked. “The potion?” Malfoy tilted his head.

“Considering you worked on it, it’s decent.” he replied, but it’s more of a teasing remark than an insult. Harry smirked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.” They take the phials up to the professor’s desk and set them down before walking back to their desk. As they pack up, Harry’s struck by an idea.

“Hey- Malfoy. Want to come to the library with me? I’m meeting Hermione.”

Malfoy regarded him with an appraising stare. The blank look Harry had noticed earlier is gone from his eyes, which fills him with an odd sense of relief.

“Alright.” he finally said cautiously, eyeing Harry like he thought he would announce it as a joke, and they pick up their bags and walk out of the classroom. Harry saw Daphne watching them leave, and she smiled a little when he met her eyes.

The two boys went down to the library, and Harry could see Malfoy diminish slightly at all of the students in the hallway, going to their next class or to a common room. 

Considering all of the students in the hall, there’s a great deal of interest as to why the Savior of the Wizarding World is walking around with an ex- Death Eater. People whisper and stare, but Harry’s used to it, even though some people look a little hostile at the sight of Malfoy. Harry turned into the library, and Malfoy’s right behind him.

“Oh- Harry!” Hermione came over and greeted him. “Hey, Draco.” Malfoy coughed.

“Why are you calling me Draco?” he asked dryly. “You can still call me Malfoy, Granger.”

“Because I like calling people I don’t hate by their first names,” replied Hermione airily, and Malfoy shook his head at her but smiled slightly.

“Alright...Hermione.” he responded after a slight pause, and is rewarded with a grin from Hermione as they sat down. “I’m still calling you Potter, Potter.”

“Yeah, yeah, Malfoy.” The two boys hesitantly grin at each other.

“I have another thing I want to show you, Draco.” announced Hermione, and withdrew her phone. Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s a Muggle game you can play.”

“Is that Subway Surfers, Hermione?” Harry said incredulously. He remembered vividly when Dudley, on his 12nth birthday while Harry was home for the summer, got a phone and downloaded that game, then proceeded to lose so badly he threw the phone out of his window. Harry only remembered because he had been forced to weed the garden underneath the window by Aunt Petunia and the phone had hit him on the head.

Hermione smiled mischievously. “Yep.” She showed Malfoy how to play, and Harry felt almost a little fond of the Slytherin as his eyes light up and he swiped the screen vigorously. Malfoy snatched the phone from Hermione and bragged shamelessly when the game ended, even if he didn’t get very far.

“Look at that! A thousand yards. I bet none of you could get the little person to run a thousand yards,” Malfoy said, preening.

“Oh, of course not.” replied Harry with amusement.

“Is that sarcasm, Potter? Well well. There’s hope for you after all.”

As they keep talking and bickering, Harry’s surprised to find that he likes hanging out with Malfoy when he’s like this. He felt like someone Harry could be friends with- he’s funny when he wants to be, as smart as Hermione, and he talked a lot, also like Hermione.

In all of his seven years knowing Malfoy, he’d never once wanted to be his friend, but now… well, things have changed. They’ve all changed. Not a great deal, in many ways they act the same way, thought Harry. Malfoy had stopped belittling them in a mean way and had opened up some, but Harry could still see the snarky, confident, smart Slytherin that he’d known for so long.

Only now he saw him differently, not as an enemy, but as someone who could be a friend.

So Harry’s glad he invited Malfoy to the library, glad that the other boy decided to let down his guard a bit, glad for Malfoy’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Subway Surfers and cell phones were not things of the ‘90’s. But here they are anyway. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all thank you so much for the love! I will try to post every 1-3 days. For this chapter there is a TW for implied self harm.

“Checkmate,” Draco announced smugly, and Potter groaned and tilted his head back in his chair as Draco knocked over the other boy’s king on the chessboard.

“Why am I so bad at this?” Potter sighed. “You’re as good as Ron.”

“I’m better than Weasley, Potter. You, on the other hand, are bloody horrible at this.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

“You’re welcome, Potter.”

The two boys are in the common room with Hermione, who’s reading a couple feet away. 

It’s been a few days since Potter invited Draco to the library, and one week before Draco and Potter leave for France. The three of them have been spending time together, and gradually become _something_ like friends. Draco was surprised at how easy it was for him to enjoy their company, and at how easily they accepted him.

Everyone else was out enjoying the last of the warm days, before fall remembers it’s supposed to be cold. Draco didn’t mind the lack of people, in fact he prefers it. Less hostile faces to keep track of.

“Did you know that there are five different variations of the Chinese Fireball dragon?” said Hermione suddenly, and Draco scoffed.

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Not me.” announced Potter.

“Well duh not you, Potter.”

“Sod off.” Potter chucked a chess piece at him, and Draco, with the skill of a Seeker, caught it deftly and threw it back. The other boy caught it as well, and they toss it back and forth.

“Why do you know that, though?” Hermione mused as she turned a page of her book.

“Because my name means dragon. So ten year old me was bored and started reading about dragons. Hence, the knowledge.” Potter snorted.

“I always forget your name literally means dragon. Dragon Malfoy.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“At least it’s not some commoner name like Harry.” Hermione chuckled.

“Whatever, Dragon Malfoy.”

“If you call me that one more time I will turn you into a snake, you cretin.” Potter laughed and Draco scowled.

“Go ahead.” Potter yawned. “Then I can nap.” He waved a lazy hand and closed his eyes.

Draco doesn’t, though. He and Potter might be tentative friends-honestly, tentative acquaintances- but they’re not that close that Draco can stick his wand in Potter’s face and cast a spell on him.

“Hey, Hermione, Harry, why are you- oh.” All three of them look round at the portrait hole, where Weasley had just stepped into the common room. His eyes narrow a bit at the sight of Draco, and Draco subtly grabbed his wand. He didn’t need a repeat of Finnegan.

“Hey Ron.” Hermione stood and kissed Weasley quickly, and Draco almost snickered at the expression on Weasley’s face, but figured that’s not such a good idea. Don’t antagonize people, he reminded himself.

“Why are you two up here with Malfoy?” asked Weasley, eyeing Draco, who returned his glare.

“Ron,” chided Hermione. “We’re friends now.” Some part of Draco is pleased with that statement; to hear Hermione say out loud that they were friends. The red head’s eyes widen and again Draco has to repress the urge to snort. He looked so comical it’s hard not to.

“Friends.” Weasley repeated sarcastically, and Potter sat up.

“Yeah. He’s not horrible anymore, Ron.” he pointed out.

“I’m right here, Potter.” Draco said scathingly, and Potter shot him a look that said quite plainly, Sorry but I need you to shut up right now. Draco rolled his eyes but complied, silently cursing Potter as he did. Why couldn’t he ever say no to this boy? Oh, right. Because he’s bloody attractive and his eyes take your breath away, Draco sung inside his head, before squashing the thought. No, that’s not a good thing, he said in his mind. Bad thing. Very bad thing. With some effort, Draco pulled himself back to the present and is able to catch some snippets of conversation from where Weasley, Potter, and Hermione are sequestered at the other side of the common room, furiously whispering.

“...know he apologized but really? Is is necessary to befriend…” Honestly Weasley, thought Draco idly as he fidgeted with a chess piece, no need to be so unfriendly.

“...actually I like being his friend, Ronald…” Draco smiled at that. I like being your friend too, Hermione, and for the record I think you can do better than that red-headed twat, he replied back to her in his head.

“...me too. I like hanging out with…” At Harry’s comment Draco flushes. He likes hanging out with me, yelled the loony part of his brain. Shut the hell up and stop blushing it’s embarrassing, snapped his rational side. So Draco did, sitting up and trying to maintain his composure while eavesdropping.

“..Ron, just talk to him?”

Weasley let out an impressively lengthy sigh. “Fine, ‘Mione.” With that final word the three tramp back over to where Draco lounged on the couch, Weasley looking disgruntled.

“Fancy a game of chess, Weasley?” said Draco airily. He’s decided to be the bigger person for this confrontation. “Potter says you’re a decent player. As long as you’re better than   
him, I’ll play, because Potter’s absolute shit at chess.” Potter raised his eyebrows at Draco from behind Weasley, and Draco lifted his own. “Don’t look at me like that Potter, you know it’s true.” Hermione snorted, and Weasley eyed Draco for a bit.

“...Alright.” he grunted, and plunked down on the other side of the chessboard. Draco sat up smoothly and tapped the board, which rearranged itself in a whirl of chess pieces. Draco’s playing white, and Weasley black.

“So Potter says you like Quidditch?” Draco began conversationally as he nudged a pawn forward.

“Yeah.” Weasley answered flatly as he directed a bishop. Draco frowned. Can Weasley even speak more than one syllable replies?

“So what’s your team?” prodded Draco, and smiled smugly when his knight bashed Weasley’s pawn.

“Chudley Cannons.” Weasley paused, but seemed inspired to say more when his bishop smashed Draco’s pawn. “You?”

“Falmouth Falcons. But the Cannons are-” Draco tried unsuccessfully to think of a word that isn’t so insulting- “bottom of the league!” he finished. “Rook to F5,” he added.

“Yeah, I know.” Weasley’s tone is a little less flat now. “Still root for them every year, though. The Falcons were great in last year’s season.”

“They were really good. Second, behind the Harpies. I love the Falcons but Jones is a brilliant player,” enthused Draco. Finally he’s found something like common ground with Weasley.

“Yeah. When she used the Porskoff’s Ploy, she was just unstoppable.”

“I know right! She executed it so well.” Draco grinned, and Weasley smiled a little. Draco saw Hermione and Harry behind Weasley exchanging an amused look.  
Draco let Weasley win; it’s not too hard, as Weasley’s as good as him at Wizard’s chess. After that Weasley is significantly friendlier to Draco, and the four of them sat in the common room, talking about classes and Quidditch until people start trickling back in before dinner.

….

“I’m so glad they didn’t strangle each other,” whispered Harry to Hermione as they walk down to the Great Hall. The two of them are slightly behind Ron and Malfoy, who are arguing over whether the Holyhead Harpies would still be top of the league without Gwenog Jones. Hermione smiled a little as she watches them.

“Me too.” she responded quietly. “I’m actually starting to really like hanging out with him.”

“Same.” repeated Harry. “He’s still Malfoy, but… in a better way. I hope it lasts.”

The four of them sat at the end of the eighth year table, ignoring Malfoy’s protests that other people will stare if he sits with them. Hermione’s next to Malfoy, while Harry and Ron are across from them.

At first Malfoy was a little withdrawn and snappish; Harry figured it’s the fact that so many people are around them and subtly (or not) watching them, all curious as to why the Golden Trio is eating dinner with the Prince of Slytherin, ex Death Eater. But Hermione and Harry, by silent agreement, engage him in a constant stream of chatter, and soon Malfoy opened back up again.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, with a look of distaste, “please tell me you do not eat treacle tart every night.” Harry smirked as he served himself a slice.

“Actually, yeah, most nights I do.”

“There’s so much sugar in that thing! It’s not healthy!” Malfoy exclaimed, and Harry snickered when he realized Malfoy’s actually concerned about this.

“What about all the chocolate on your plate?” pointed out Hermione, with raised eyebrows.

“That’s dark chocolate,” said Malfoy haughtily. “It’s good for you.” The other three laugh, and Malfoy rolls his eyes as he chewed. “Look it up, you cretins! It’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah.” replied Ron with a small grin. “Hey- I was thinking of going flying tonight. Anyone up for it?”

“Brilliant. You coming, Hermione?” Harry looked at her expectantly and she smiled and shook her head.

“Maybe just to watch,” she answered him. “Flying isn’t my thing.”

“You can fly with me a bit if you like,” offered Ron, and Hermione blushed a little.

“Alright,” she said, and Harry turned to Malfoy.

“Coming?” Malfoy seemed a little closed off again. He shook his head.

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“We could have a Seeker’s game,” cajoled Harry, knowing that if the bribe of competition and winning something didn’t draw Malfoy out, nothing will. A glint appears in Malfoy’s  
eyes, and he smirked.

“Alright, you’re on, Potter. If you want to lose.” Harry grinned back.

“Don’t count on it, Malfoy.”

Ten minutes later Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy pick their way down to the Quidditch Pitch, all of the boys with brooms in hand. Harry carried a Snitch in the other hand- the   
one that had housed the Resurrection Stone, not so long ago. He brushed his thumb over the engraved gold ball and remembered the small, dull black stone rising out of it. It was still hidden in the forest, somewhere, and Harry knew he could find it if he wanted. But he’d meant what he said that night, after he’d triumphed over Voldemort. He wasn’t going to go looking for it. He knew better now.

“Oi, Potter! Hurry up!” called Malfoy, and Harry realized he’s stopped walking and was rooted to the path. He hastened to make his way down to the others. It’s dark out, the sun had set just before they’d left the castle. The air is pleasantly cool, and Harry can hear the croaking and chirping of hidden animals.

“It’s a little dark for a Seeker’s game,” said Harry when he reaches the others on the Quidditch Pitch.

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy smirked, and Harry smiles as he remembered that past duel.

“You wish.” he replied, and they lock eyes before chuckling.

“If you want, I know a night vision spell.” offered Hermione, and Harry exchanged a quick glance with Malfoy.

“Yeah, could you cast it?” Harry asked, and she nodded and pulled out her wand.

“Visionem nocte,” intoned Hermione, and Harry’s eyes tingle. Suddenly everything is tinted green, but he can see as clearly as if it were daytime, maybe more. Hermione went and did the same spell for Malfoy.

“This looks bloody weird.” muttered the blond, and Harry smirked. It’s not so odd for him; he knew this is kind of what you see if you use Muggle night vision goggles. Both boys then cast a standard Quidditch spell that protected their eyes from the wind.

“Ready?” challenged Harry as they mount their brooms, and Malfoy grinned.

“No shit.” he replied, and Harry released the Snitch. It whirred away, hovering in front of them for a split second, before blurring off into the darkness.

“GO!” shouted Malfoy, and kicked off. Harry cursed and did the same, hearing Malfoy laugh ahead of him. Once Harry flew up high enough, the two boys circle the pitch, eyes scanning for the telltale gold glint.

“You cheated!” exclaimed Harry loudly, and Malfoy laughed again. It’s the first time Harry’s heard Malfoy laugh, really laugh, not from spite or making fun of someone. It’s...joyful, and Harry’s weirdly glad that Malfoy’s happy around him, glad that they’re past the old rivalry and have a chance to know one another.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts when he saw a sparkling blur pass underneath him, and exclaimed wordlessly as he executed a hairpin swerve and chased after it. Malfoy’s speeding toward him and soon the two are neck and neck, diving and turning in unison as they chase the Snitch. Slowly they gain on the fluttering ball, the only sound was the wind screaming in Harry’s ears. He felt exhilarated; racing like this made his adrenaline soar and he loved it, he always had.

The Snitch suddenly dropped and resumed flight a foot from the grassy ground. Harry and Malfoy follow it without hesitation, both speeding downwards and pulling out of the dive with seconds to spare. Harry grinned. He’s never played a Seeker’s game like this, with someone who’s just as skilled as him. It’s bloody brilliant. Harry stretched out his arm, the tips of his fingers mere inches from the Snitch, just like Malfoy’s.

….

Draco’s determined to win this Seeker’s game. Potter’s bested him in actual Quidditch games so many times, but he’s confident that he can beat him now. Draco’s flying even with Potter; neither of them can pull ahead of the other. But all of a sudden the Snitch turned to the right, and Draco’s closest, and he made a swipe for the tiny thing and felt his fingers close around the buzzing Snitch. He yelled in triumph and directed his broom upwards, away from the ground, and Potter followed him.

Eventually they both slow down and fly a few laps to let the adrenaline off before Draco pulled his broom up next to Potter.

“See? I told you I’d win.” Draco bragged, smirking. He glanced over at the other boy and almost does a double take. Potter’s hair is brilliantly windswept and he’s grinning at Draco, and he looked gorgeous.

“Yeah, that was a good game.” Potter replied.

“Yeah,” answered Draco, slightly breathless, but no one except him will ever know it’s from Potter and not the Seeker’s game. Another broom rose from the ground, and with his night vision still in use Draco could see Weasley with his arms wrapped around Hermione on the broomstick.

“That was a bloody amazing game!” exclaimed Weasley, and Hermione vocalized her agreement. Draco smirked, while Potter smiled a bit self-consciously.

“Yeah, Potter’s a decent flyer,” replied Draco nonchalantly. He tossed the Snitch back over to Potter, who snatched it before it can fly away again.

“Do you mind if we go back to the ground?” asked Hermione, her hands white-knuckled on the broomstick. “It’s- very high. And windy. And dark.”

“Yeah, of course.” replied Weasley, ever the gentleman around Hermione, and gently steered the two of them back down to the pitch. Draco and Potter follow and hop off their brooms, and the four head back up to the school. Draco walked with Potter, behind Weasley and Hermione. The night vision is wearing away, and it’s pitch-black out. Draco can barely see the Gryffindor next to him.

“So, why did you want to go to France?” came Potter’s voice.

“Just wanted to get away for a while,” responded Draco vaguely as they tramp up the hill back to the school. “You?”

“About the same. It’ll be nice to…”

“Be more of a normal person.” finished Draco quietly, and there’s a silence.

“Yeah.” Draco felt a sudden empathy for the boy next to him. They were both so impacted by the war, and it still haunted both of them, physically and mentally. People treated them differently after the war.

Not that Draco was anything like Potter. No, Draco was hated...and rightly so, he thought emotionlessly. And Potter… Potter was the golden boy. And rightly so.

The two walked back to the common room in a comfortable silence, but it felt heavier than normal. As if both of them knew that they both had things left unsaid.

Draco and Potter said their goodbyes to Weasley and Hermione before heading up to their dormitory. Everyone else seemed to already be asleep, so the two were as quiet as they could be as they stowed away brooms and changed. Draco finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom, which is lit only the the moonlight streaming in from a window, and turned to leave.

“Goodnight.” Potter said softly from behind him, and Draco paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” Draco replied quietly, and goes to bed. His last thought before he fell asleep was how beautiful Potter looked in the moonlight.

The next morning, Draco got up early and wandered the castle. There’s a noticeable chill in the air, and he’s glad for his jumper. Then he entered the Great Hall and snagged a croissant before making his way up to the Headmistress’s office for the career meeting; he was one of the last on the schedule to meet with her, before his classes today.

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy.” said McGonagall, and gestured to a chair in front of her desk. The room is filled with bits and bobs and oddities, although Draco could see a large bird stand adjacent to the ornate wooden desk that seemed actually in use, red feathers laying randomly at the base of it.

“Good morning, Headmistress.” he replied as he sat down.

“Have you given any thought to your life after school?” asked McGonagall, and Draco frowned slightly.

“Yes, but I haven’t settled on anything. I figured not everywhere will take me.” he responded, his voice getting quieter at the end. He shifted in his chair. It’s ironic that Draco’s   
sitting in this chair, in Dumbledore’s old office, when he tried to murder the man. And now look at him. Draco’s mood quickly sunk as he trailed the familiar path down to his past memories, and revisited all of his mistakes in his mind. Every one.

“That may be a setback, true enough.” acknowledged McGonagall diplomatically, and she peered over her glasses at Draco. Her gaze is very motherly, but also very stern, noted Draco randomly. “But I do suggest that while at Beauxbatons you consider taking the Healer program. At least then you could perhaps gain some experience in a field, and decide if you like it. And I believe you would, at least, be better suited to the Healer career than the teaching one.”

Draco murmured agreement, and McGonagall dismissed him. He walked out of her office in a daze, and didn’t bother going to go grab his school bag. Instead he discreetly leaves the castle and wandered the grounds again, eventually finding himself at the same clearing as before. It’s bright and warmed from the sunlight that poured into the clearing, and he stumbled before sitting down.

I shouldn’t be here, Draco thought to himself in despair. He didn’t fit in among the students. He’s a horrible person, for fuck’s sake, he tried to murder a man! And he’s responsible for so many deaths, so much pain, he’s tortured people! He never stood up to the Dark Lord, never did anything more than sneak Lovegood some food and salve. 

Draco knew he could’ve done more, should’ve done more, even if it had been at the expense of his parents, his own life. Potter would have died to save everyone, he willingly walked to his own death, for fuck’s sake. But Draco, Draco was a coward. He’d knowingly let Death Eaters into the school, orchestrated the death of Dumbledore, tortured people at the Dark Lord’s command…

Alone in the sunny clearing, Draco stumbled to his knees, a raw cry escaping him.

He felt like he’d felt the night when he’d burned the Mark off of his arm; everything was in sudden clarity. How he loathed himself and hated what he’d done, been forced or threatened to do. How he’d done it, even though he knew it was wrong.

His body was wracked by sobs, and he covered his face with his hands. No, he shouldn’t be here. He didn’t deserve this new chance, to be back at school, to travel, to have friends. He should be locked up, gone, dead.

A part of him wants to end it, right here.

Draco conjured a knife and grasped it. His hand is shaking, trembling. The silver of the blade seemed to grow larger, until everything else blurred and Draco’s staring at the knife in his palm, taking short, shallow breaths. Do it, you coward. It would be better for everyone if your dark stain was gone from the world. A tear seeped from Draco’s eye, trailing down his cheek. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, a frantic thumping. His eyes are squeezed shut, and over and over in his mind he saw Dumbledore’s body falling off of the tower, the pained faces of those he was forced to torture, Crabbe’s terrified mask as he was consumed by the flames-

A clear, pure note sounds, and Draco’s eyes open instinctively. A bird is spiraling down from the sky, seemingly out of the sun, but it’s feathers are a colorful red-orange. It’s tail is long, almost like a peacock, and as he watched, the bird swooped gracefully down to land in front of him. It’s colors are even more vivid close up, like all the colors of fire painted onto a living canvas. The bird tilted its head, fixing him to the spot with one big dark eye. It opened its beak and made another sound, that somehow manages to hold multitudes of emotions. Sadness, grief, regret, but also joy.

“You’re a phoenix aren’t you?” whispered Draco. “Dumbledore’s phoenix?”

The phoenix sung again in response, before emitting a low humming sound. Draco reached out a tentative hand and when nothing happened, lay his hand gently on the phoenix. He gasped.

Memories are rushing through his head, almost larger than life, like he’s seeing it in front of him. Most of them are recent, with Potter and Hermione, or Daphne and Pansy and Blaise. His friends. And older ones, with his mother. All the people he cares for. It’s a jumble of voices and laughter and the overall feeling of happiness. All of his darker memories are still there, but for the first time Draco not only saw those but sees his happiest moments, and knew that the dark was not the only presence in his life. You have something worth living for, whispered a melodious voice.

Draco dropped the knife. Fumbled for his wand and vanished it.

“Thank you.” he said to the phoenix, tears swelling in his eyes, but tears of relief and joy instead of sadness and anger. The phoenix dipped its head, before flying off in a flurry of bright feathers. Draco watched the phoenix fly away, his breathing ragged, before closing his eyes and laying down upon the soft grass.

….

Harry fidgeted in his seat in Potions. Professor Athme’s speaking, but Harry couldn't concentrate on that, only the empty seat next to him. Malfoy’s empty seat. During lunch he’d received a note, a piece of paper folded meticulously into a little dragon that had floated down next to his plate. He’d opened it, and Malfoy’s elegant writing had popped out at him.

_Potter,  
Please take notes for me in Potions. I’ll be missing class today. Don’t make a fuss.  
D.M._

Harry had huffed in frustration. No explanation, only a request to take notes. He supposed he should be thankful Malfoy had said please.

As the Slytherin had also asked, Harry hadn’t drawn attention to Malfoy’s disappearance. Hermione and Ron had questioned him at lunch, but Harry had said, truthfully, that he didn’t know where the blond had disappeared off to. Harry had seen Daphne Greengrass looking worried, and remembered how she’d greeted Malfoy the last time he had come back from a day of being missing. She probably knew more than Harry about where Malfoy was, but like him, chose not to fuss about it.

Harry wasn’t worried for Malfoy, he knew the other boy was capable of looking after himself. Harry was just a little confused, and curious as to where he disappeared to and why. 

But he couldn’t do anything about it, only to wait. So here Harry sat, trying his hardest to take legible and useful notes, although he knew his were not up to standard with Malfoy’s. The Slytherin’s notes, like Hermione’s, were always neat and extensively knowledgeable.

“...next class, the last class before the eighth years leave, we will be brewing Amortentia, or the most powerful love potion known to mankind. Normally it would take two months, but these batches are in their most crucial and final stage so that you will be able to complete and test your potions. Homework is to review this recipe. You all can go now, and come prepared next class.” finished Professor Athme. Harry hastily scribbled down the professor’s parting words before departing the room. As he stepped out the door, however, someone snagged his sleeve and pulled him aside.

“Harry. Has Draco said anything to you?” Daphne looked more worried than before, and her hair was frizzing up out of it’s normal, sleek ponytail.

“He sent me a note at lunch today, but all it said was to take notes for him and not to make a fuss. Harry dug in his schoolbag for the note and hands it to her. She scanned it before giving it back.

“I’m worried about him.” Daphne confessed. “This is the second time he’s gone, and for all we know he could be dead and floating in the Black Lake.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s Malfoy, he knows what he’s doing.” Harry replied, trying to comfort her. “If I find anything out, I’ll let you know.” She nodded, and they went their separate ways. Harry walked up to the common room, mind still on Malfoy. What could he be doing, and why? Where was he?

Harry sat down in the common room, by the window. The light outside was rapidly declining; the sun sinking behind the trees. He was alone in the common room except for Susan Bones and Sue Li; Harry knew that Hermione and Ron were in the library, they’d told him at lunch. Harry pulled out his Charms homework and tried to work on it, but in vain. That little worry in the back of his head that had been there all day was nagging at him, the worry about Malfoy. Because they were friends now, and tentative friendships or not Harry was concerned that one of his friends had been missing all day, and had told no one where he was.

It reminded him strongly of his sixth year; when he’d spent all of his free time watching Malfoy’s movements on the Marauder's Map as the other boy had struggled to repair the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. Could he be in the Room, for some reason? Harry wasn’t sure if the place still worked after the Fiendfyre had swept through last year. As far as he knew no one had tried.

Harry put quill to paper again, trying to put the blond out of his head. One thing he knew for certain was that he trusted Malfoy now. Harry could confidently rule out anything like what Malfoy had done in sixth year.

Something in his past thoughts kept circling back to Harry, and suddenly he realized- he could check the Marauder’s Map. He couldn’t have left the school, so Harry could easily find him on there. Part of him was reluctant to invade Malfoy’s privacy, for Harry knew he probably had a good reason for leaving to go to places unknown. But Daphne’s worried face came back into his mind, and with a muffled curse Harry put his school things away and went to go check the Map.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” he said, squirreled away in his dorm, and watched the ink appear onto the worn parchment, swirling into names and footprints. Harry perused the small letters, searching for the familiar name. After a few terse minutes, he saw Malfoy’s name floating out by the forest, and Harry frowned. What was he doing out   
there? And why hadn’t he returned before the sun set?

Harry grabbed his cloak and hurried out of the dorm with the Map and his wand.

Seven minutes later he jogged down the front steps of the castle.

“Lumos,” Harry said, and in the resulting glow peered at the Map again. Malfoy’s name on the Map was almost in the forest, for Merlin’s sake. Harry let out a great sigh but walked forward into the darkness that surrounded the castle, once the torches that adorned the front door were out of sight. His wand was the only glow, and the night was surprisingly quiet as Harry tramped down the grassy hill, seeing the faint shine of the lake beyond him.

After some time he began to hear what could only be Malfoy, cursing loudly. He checked the Map again before tucking it in his back pocket; he could hear Malfoy now and therefore had no need of it. He kept walking and soon his wand light fell on Malfoy.

“Potter what the hell are you- FUCK- doing here?” said Malfoy weakly as he tried to stand, but collapsed as his ankle gave out. Harry lunged forward and caught him by the arm.

“What happened? Why have you been out here all day?” Harry asked as Malfoy sat down awkwardly.

“None of your business, Potter.” Malfoy growled, clutching his ankle. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. You’re telling me later. Daphne’s been very worried about you, you know.” replied Harry, sitting down next to Malfoy, who sighed, seemingly resigned to Harry’s presence.

“Oh- damn. I forgot about her. She’ll murder me.” Malfoy groaned and flopped backwards so he was laying down. “Can we talk about this later, Potter? Help me walk back up to the school, because no offense but I don’t trust you to heal my ankle, and I can’t do it myself.”

“Yeah, I never learned healing spells.” Harry agreed. “Can you even walk?”

“Of course I can walk, Potter.” Malfoy sat up with a determined expression and struggled to a standing position, leaning on Harry heavily with his foot held off the ground.

“Malfoy, you are not going to make it up that hill on one foot, even with my help.” Harry said firmly. He could see that the other boy was already tired, and wouldn’t make it up the hill or the various staircases to the hospital wing.

“Well I refuse to be levitated, you are not calling down more people, so we’re walking.” insisted Malfoy, and Harry sighed, trying to think of an alternative.

“That’ll take hours.” Harry protested, then was struck by an idea. “Would you let me carry you? It’ll be a lot faster.” Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, but Harry kept going. “You know you can’t walk up there, even if we braced your foot. I’ll even ask you less questions if we can just go inside.” he cajoled. Malfoy huffed.

“Fine.” he said shortly, crossing his arms, and Harry snorted. “But how are you going to- hey!” he exclaimed, for Harry had scooped him up, bridal-style, and was beginning the walk back to the school. “Potter!”

“Don’t act like that. It was going to happen sooner or later.” replied Harry, rolling his eyes. Malfoy was light, and wasn’t that hard to carry. “Can you light your wand so I can see?” he asked, for he couldn’t hold his properly when he was holding Malfoy.

“Alright.” answered Malfoy, still sounding a little surly. He muttered the spell and his wand lit up, and Harry could now see the proper path to the castle and followed it. Malfoy’s cheeks were red, and he blew his hair out of his face as Harry carried him, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “I could’ve walked up by myself, you know.” he announced, and Harry chuckled.

“Sure, maybe in a day or two.”

“Sod off. How did you find me, anyway?” asked Malfoy as Harry started up the hill. Harry smiled ruefully.

“There’s a map that I have. Long story, but basically it shows all of Hogwarts and has everyone’s names, and where they are.” Malfoy blinked.

“Where did you-” Harry cut him off.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were out here with a broken ankle.”

“...Fine. In our dorm, tomorrow during dinner.” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

“Alright.”


	7. Chapter 7

Draco sat up in his bed, suppressing a yawn. He flexed his foot experimentally, but it was healed completely. Last night, after Potter had carried him up to the castle, he’d insisted they take the longer but more discreet way up to the hospital wing so no one would see Potter carrying him, and the other boy had shaken his head but agreed. Madam Pomfrey had fixed his ankle in a trice and they’d gone back up to their dorm, where Draco had been jumped by Hermione, Daphne, and Pansy, all who’d exclaimed at his appearance and started bombarding him with questions.

Potter had left him to the wolves and gone to bed, and Draco had explained very vaguely that he had been outside but broken his ankle and Potter had helped him back up, which was not a good enough excuse for the three girls, but he’d refused to say any more.

When he’d seen how worried Pansy and Daphne had been, he’d forgiven them and apologized himself for treating them the way he did, and they’d accepted his apology. Draco was glad for that, because he’d missed the two of them, and he had felt bad about cold-shouldering them.

And today… today he had to tell Potter where he’d been going, and why, mostly because they’d made an agreement but also because Draco wanted to ease the debt that he felt to Potter from last night. If not for his unexpected arrival, it would have taken far longer and been much more difficult to return to the castle after his damn ankle had busted when he’d fallen in the dark. Draco sighed at the memory. He was loath to admit it, but being carried by Potter hadn’t been...horrible. He’d felt safe. Draco cringed and faceplanted in his pillow. This was just getting sad.

Draco inhaled and sat up, because he had no intention of staying up in the dorm all day. He was hungry, after skipping pretty much every meal yesterday, so he dressed and ambled down to the Great Hall, after quickly writing a reply to a letter from his mother and jogging up to the Owlery to send it off.

He spent a rather enjoyable breakfast with Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise, although he had to fend off many more questions about the previous day. Then he’d met up with Hermione in the library and studied, before grabbing a quick lunch and meeting up with Hermione, Weasley, and Potter in the common room, where they spent the afternoon playing chess and bickering back and forth, and Hermione had introduced Draco to her extraordinarily fluffy and smush-faced cat, Crookshanks. Potter and Weasley had recounted the long   
story of Weasley and Hermione’s fight third year, over the cat and a rat.

Spending the day like this with all of his friends made him glad for his newfound friendship with the three people he’d abhorred for so long, as well as those he’d known for a longer time. He’d had found himself enjoying his time with the other three, as weird as it was for all of them at times.

Hermione, the girl he’d once sneered at for being Muggleborn was a very smart, witty, nice person to be around. Draco finally had someone that would discuss the finer points of something obscure with him, like if the use of moonlace was more potent in the Draught of Living Death than moonleaf. (They’d eventually decided to agree to disagree when Potter and Weasley had moaned that they’d been bickering for three hours and could they please shut up)

Surprisingly, Draco enjoyed Weasley’s company too, although, like Potter and himself, they stuck to last names out of habit and the fact that they’d only been friendly for a few days. Weasley knew a lot about Quidditch, from brooms to teams, and was entertaining to be around. Weasley was also good at Wizard’s chess, as was Draco, so they both relished having someone with skill to play against this afternoon. (Draco had won more than him, though)

And finally, Potter. Potter, besides being amazingly attractive, was nice, funny, quick-witted, charming, and most of all Draco appreciated how Potter was good. Draco cringed inwardly, but it was the only way to describe him. He was just.. always helping someone, or protecting someone. And Potter had been the one that had been most willing to give Draco another chance, to invite him to hang out.

“They should have dinner ready by now,” said Hermione, carefully marking her book and stowing it in her bag. She stood and so did Ron, and Draco tried subtly to follow them out.

“Malfoy and I have an essay to finish, so we’ll stay up here.” announced Potter, staring pointedly at Draco, who huffed and sat down.

“Yeah, an essay.” he muttered. He wasn’t looking forward to this.

“Alright then, see you two later.” Hermione and Weasley left, and soon the common room was empty.

Draco stood and walked up the stairs to their dorm, sprawling on his bed as he watches Potter enter the room after him and shut the door.

“So how’s this map work?” Draco asked nonchalantly, and Potter dug around in his trunk. He came up with a blank piece of parchment and tapped it with his wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Potter said, and Draco’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What does that even mean?” he replied, and Potter smiled and sat next to him on his bed. Draco coughed in surprise but tried to remain collected at the steady warmth of Potter’s body next to his.

“Watch.” said Potter simply, and as Draco did the parchment began to turn into, well, a map.

“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder’s Map,” read Draco, taking the parchment from Potter. “Who are-”

“My dad.” answered Potter. “And Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew. While they were at school they made it, and Fred and George found it in Filch’s office. They gave it to me third year, but I didn’t know who’d made it at the time.” Draco unfolded the map, perusing the footprints and names floating on the paper as he took in this information.

“That’s us,” he said, his finger on the pairs of footprints adjacent to each other in the eighth year boys dorm.

“Yup. And Ron, and Hermione.” Potter unfolded a section and pointed his own finger at two more names in the Great Hall.”

“How did the four of them make it?” questioned Draco, fascinated with the map. He glanced at Potter and saw a small, wistful smile on his face as he watched the map.

“I don’t know, really. Remus and Sirius never explained.” Potter answered quietly. He looked sad, and Draco remembered that he had been close to the two men.

“You could stalk people on here,” mused Draco, attempting to distract Potter from his memories. Potter coughed and flushed a bit, scratching his neck.

“I have, actually. You.”

“Me?” repeated Draco, too surprised to add an insult. “Why?”

“I was very suspicious of you in sixth year.” explained Potter, and they both quiet a bit at the mention of that time.

Draco chewed on his lip absentmindedly. That had been one of the worst years of his life. He’d been so desperately trying to follow His orders, but also constantly at war with himself. Draco had known it was wrong, but had been so scared of incurring His wrath, of getting killed, of getting his parents killed. Some small part of him had been eager to be singled out and chosen, but after a while he’d lost that mindset as he’d continually gotten more and more stressed and scared.

“So,” the Gryffindor ventured, his eyes a bit soft at the edges as he watched Draco. “Why have you been disappearing into the grounds?” Draco turned his head away. This was almost the same topic, thought Potter didn’t know that.

“Why do you care?” Draco asked quietly, warring with himself. He wanted desperately to confide in someone, in the boy sitting next to him. At the same time he was trying to restrain himself, because some inner voice still protested that no, Draco shouldn’t tell him anything.

“Because we’re friends now, and I worry when you leave for a long time without telling anyone.” Potter replied, and his words make Draco’s heart flutter. He took a shaky breath and let it out. His hands brushed parchment; the Map had dropped into his lap from numb fingers.

“But why are we friends? Why do you want to be friends with a Death Eater?” Draco burst out, his voice cracking on this question that had been burning him up from the inside. “I don’t- I don’t understand how you can forgive me for what I’ve done.” Draco felt the sharp burn of tears pricking his eyes, and he looked away from Potter’s bright gaze. _Was he really crying right now? This was embarrassing. Even though he did want to know the answer to his question._

Potter’s face grew solemn. “Malfoy- Draco. You’re not a Death Eater.” He looked Draco in the eye. “You’re not. Yes, you’ve made bad choices, but so has everyone, so have I. You made bad choices, were in bad situations, but I don’t believe that you’re a bad person. And you’ve changed, and I like being your friend, and getting to know you. The real you. So yes, we’ve forgiven you, because we care for you. And you deserve to be happy as much as anyone, you don’t deserve to be alone.”

Draco couldn’t look away from him, but his frantic heartbeat steadied at the other boy’s words. Not a bad person. We’ve forgiven you. Maybe it’s the fact that he called Draco by his first name, or he had told Draco the words that he so desperately had needed and really meant them, but Draco decided to trust him at this moment. To trust Harry. His friend.

….

“Sometimes…” Malfoy began- no, Draco, thought Harry. It seemed wrong to call him Malfoy now, because Malfoy was the boy from the past. Draco.. Draco was the boy in front of him. Still the same, but changed in irrevocable ways. Both of them were.

“Sometimes I need to get away. From everyone. It’s like-it’s like a floodgate bursts inside my head, and everything comes… comes back…” his voice trailed off and he turned his head away again. Harry feels a surge of empathy for Draco, because he knew the exact feelings that the blond was trying to describe.

“I think I understand.” Harry replied gently, aware that the other boy was in a fragile state at the moment. He could see it in the slight trembling of his hands, in the hunch of his shoulders.

Harry knew that confiding in someone else about these things was a huge thing for Draco, and he was warmed by the fact that the other boy had decided to trust him with his feelings.

“I figured if anyone would, it was you.” Draco let out a quiet, shaky laugh, and Harry, struck by a sudden impulse, curved his arm gingerly around the Slytherin’s shoulders, trying to comfort him, like he would Hermione. Draco stiffened a little, but made no move away, and for that Harry was glad, that he could offer some comfort or support.

“Do you- want to talk about it?” Draco asked, and his grey eyes turned and met Harry’s.

“I just miss them.” Harry whispered. “Sometimes I miss them so much it aches, and other days I’m so mad at them for leaving me.” He could see Sirius, Remus, Fred, Dumbledore, Tonks in his mind. Remembered the warmth of their hugs, the sparkle in their eyes, the timber of their laugh. Draco said nothing, but leaned into Harry slightly, a silent, steady presence by his side that helped center him. “And some days I’m so angry with myself for messing up and causing their deaths.”

“You didn’t cause their deaths, Harry.” The sound of his name on the other boy’s lips was startling, but oddly comforting. Welcome. Draco continued. “They made their own choices. Turned down their own paths. It’s not your fault.” Harry blinked fast. Draco’s words resonated, and Harry gave him a small smile.

“Thanks.” Harry said softly. “I think I needed to hear that.” Draco nodded. They stayed like that for a little while, each supporting the other. Physically and mentally.

“Thank you for saving me. In the Room of Hidden Things, last year.” Harry turned and looked at him, and he could feel a tiny smile curve his lips.

“Thanks for saving me. At your manor. And before you protest that you didn’t, you did.”

Now Draco’s the one with a small smile.

“Alright. Harry.”

“And sorry for the scars. From sixth year.” Harry continued, and Draco shook his head slightly.

“Sorry for trying to curse you with an unforgivable,” he replied, and they grinned at each other. Harry sighed, glad that they had talked. He felt better, and he couldn’t speak for Draco but he thought the other boy was a little better as well. Now that they’d confessed to each other, Harry felt comfortable with Draco like he was with Ron or Hermione. They separate, and sat in easy silence.

“Oh, I have your Potions notes.” said Harry, suddenly remembering. He pulls them out of his school bag into Draco’s waiting hand.

“Merlin Harry, your penmanship is horrific,” complained Draco, squinting at the messy scrawls. Harry chuckles.

“Sorry. Professor Athme also said we’ll be finishing a batch of Amortentia next class.”

“That’ll be interesting to see. You should be careful, your fans might try to steal some and give it to you.” Draco smirked. “If only they knew that their idol was horrible at Potions, had bad handwriting..”

“And carries around blond Slytherins that complain a lot?” Harry grinned and Draco rolled his eyes.

“One time, you prat.” The blond went and dug in his bag for a quill and parchment, before sitting cross-legged on his bed across from Harry and began trying to copy down   
Harry’s notes, writing on his bedside table and leaning precariously off of the bed. Draco shook his sleeve back when it almost dipped in his ink, and Harry watched him with amusement before sucking in a quiet breath.

Draco’s left forearm was exposed, but there was no Dark Mark. Only a large, shiny burn scar lay on his pale skin. Harry gazed at it, transfixed and a little shocked. Draco suddenly lifted his head from his writing and looked from Harry to his scar, his eyes suddenly unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry suddenly. “I don’t mean to stare. Just- Draco, what happened?”

Draco was motionless for a second, and Harry could see panic building in the other boy’s eyes, and felt like a dunce for bringing it up. But before he could apologize again, Draco pulled up his sleeve all the way and lay his arm on his knee, staring at the scar.

“I was in a bad place over the summer.” he whispered, and Harry decided the best thing he could do for Draco was to listen to his words, let him let it out.

“The tattoo..it constantly ached, it kept me from sleeping. One night I got so mad at myself, at the Mark, that I..” Draco shuddered, his eyes closing at the memory, and Harry felt a wave of sympathy at the broken look on Draco’s face. “I burnt it off my arm. My mother healed it for me.” he finished quietly, and drew the sleeve of the robe back down.  
Harry and Draco sat in silence for a while, Draco staring at his covered arm, Harry watching Draco.

“Thank you. For telling me.” said Harry steadily. He pushed his emotions away; the horror, not at the scar or Draco, but that Draco had had to experience that. The sadness, for the same reason. And the empathy, because Harry knew what it felt like to be broken, knew what it felt like when no one else understood you.

The blond raised his head and locked eyes with Harry. Draco seemed to search Harry’s eyes, looking for something, and Harry let him, patiently looking into Draco’s wide grey eyes.

“Thank you. For listening.” whispered Draco finally, and Harry nodded, a lump building in his throat because that broken look, the haunted shadow behind Draco’s eyes, it was fading. The knowledge that Harry had helped him like that...Harry was glad that he could. Did.

It was odd, knowing that you had the power to influence other people like that. Knowing that just the right words could impact Draco so greatly. It made Harry a little hesitant, because having that influence was something that he didn’t know that he wanted, or could control. He didn’t want to do something to bring that broken look back into Draco’s eyes.

Harry decided that he’d just try his best to be a supportive, comforting friend. Just be there for Draco, like Hermione and Ron were there for Harry.

Harry sighed and shifted, swinging his legs off the bed, because his feet were beginning to tingle and fall asleep. He scratched at his neck absentmindedly.

“What’s that?” said Draco suddenly, eyes on Harry’s collar, and Harry followed the other boy’s gaze down to his left shoulder, where a tattooed wing was peeking out of the shirt.

“Tattoo.” replied Harry. “Luna did it for me. It’s my owl, Hedwig.” He moved the shirt down a bit so Draco could lay eyes on the simple tattoo, an owl inked simply in black, on Harry’s left shoulder blade. The outstretched wing curved up over his shoulder.

“Why did you get it?” asked Draco, his voice a little stronger than before.

“She was my first true link to the magical world. And to my childhood, I guess. So I wanted to have something that could symbolize that connection, and memorialize her and everyone who I’ve lost.” Harry explained, pulling his shirt back up. The other boy’s eyes were still perusing his shoulder, but snapped back up to Harry’s eyes.

“You said Lovegood did it?” Draco inquired, and Harry smiled. One, at the memory of Luna, and getting the tattoo, and two, because Harry had an idea of why Draco was so fascinated by the tattoo.

“Yes.” confirmed Harry. “It didn’t hurt at all, either.” he added, and Draco nodded slowly, his hand moving almost unconsciously to his left forearm, where the scar lay. “Do you want to go get dinner?” asked Harry, and Draco frowned a little. “Or we could go grab something from the kitchens.”

“Yeah, could we?” Draco mirrored Harry and dangled his legs off of the bed, one hand moving up to swipe his blond hair to the side. Harry nodded agreement and stood, adjusting his glasses. Draco snorted. “Those glasses are hideous, you know.”

“I like them,” replied Harry, fingers moving over the familiar wire frame as he walked out of the dorm. He turned to see Draco hesitating at the doorframe to the staircase, and Harry thought he understood why. Leaving the dorm meant leaving the safety net of the room, of their honest conversation. It meant going back out into the world.  
But the blond took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, and they walked down to the common room in companionable silence.

….

Once Draco and Harry left the common room, Draco let Harry lead the way to the kitchens, as he had never been there before. Draco was in a bit of a daze. What he’d shared… what Harry had shared as well, it had impacted Draco greatly. He felt as if there was a huge weight that had lifted from his chest, a weight that had slowly been crushing him. He’d confided in Harry, and been comforted by him as well. Within the embrace of the other boy Draco had felt calm, safe.

And when Harry had reassured him, had banished Draco’s worst fears of not being loved, cared for, forgiven… Draco had almost sobbed in relief. Those steady words had lightened his heart. _We’ve forgiven you. You don’t deserve to be alone._ Those words had stayed at the forefront of Draco’s mind and given him the strength to fight through his panic and finally show his scar to someone, to talk about one of his darkest days. And Harry hadn’t been disgusted, or cruel, or anything that Draco had feared. When Draco had searched his green eyes, he’d seen only compassion, empathy.

And somewhere during all of these weeks, Draco had realized that he’d been, was, slowly falling in love.

Falling in love with the messy-haired, green eyed Gryffindor. With the boy who’d patiently put up with his moods, who’d extended a hand of friendship and put the past behind them. With the boy who was nice and funny and compassionate and understood him, who accepted him as who he was. Who helped him when he’d fallen and who was a brilliant Seeker, the person who could always brighten Draco’s mood. Someone Draco trusted, cared for, truly enjoyed being around.

Falling in love, and Draco could already tell that nothing either of them could do would stop him. Part of him shied at the thought, because caring that much for someone… it took a different kind of courage than the courage needed to fight. Something more like the bravery it had taken Draco to confide in someone else.

Draco almost wanted to fight it, because if he was being honest with himself he was scared. Scared of his feelings never being reciprocated, scared of messing up and ruining a friendship that he had already come to depend on. He didn’t even know if Harry was gay.

“Here we are.” Draco was shaken out of his thoughts by the familiar voice, and looked up to see Harry standing in front of a painting of a fruit bowl. Harry grinned. “Tickle the pear.”

“Excuse me?” said Draco, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m serious, tickle the pear. It’s how you get to the kitchens.”

“How absurd.” Draco muttered. “I’m not tickling the pear. That’s weird.” He wrinkled his nose and Harry sighed when Draco didn’t move, then lifted his own hand and tickled the pear. The pear started giggling and as Draco watched the painting swung open, revealing a stone passage from which came a blast of hot air, smelling of food.

Harry stepped up and gestured for Draco to follow, and he did. It got warm after a couple of seconds and Draco tugged at his collar uncomfortably. Harry looked back at him in amusement, before the tunnel opened up into a vast chamber, with six tables arranged as the mirror of those in the Great Hall. House-elves were everywhere, scurrying about and speaking to each other in squeaky voices. Two of them hurried up to Harry and Draco.

“Could we have some food please?” asked Harry, and the house-elves nodded eagerly.

“We get you food!” they said, and ran off.

“Have you been down here a lot?” questioned Draco. Harry seemed quite familiar with the room and the house-elves.

“A couple times. Fred and George told me about it; they used to come down here and get food for parties and stuff.” Harry explained. The house-elves ran back up to Harry, their arms full of wrapped sandwiches and pastries. “Thank you,” said Harry, and Draco echoed him before they took the food and left. “Do you want to carry any?”

“Nah.” Draco smirked. “You’ve carried me, I think you can handle some sandwiches.” Harry rolled his eyes and they kept walking in comfortable silence. Draco was sorely tempted to start a conversation, if only to distract himself from panicking over… his situation.

“Where do you want to go?” asked Harry.

“Outside?”

“It’s too cold for that.”

“Never thought a Gryffindor would be scared of a little cold,” teased Draco.

“Says the one who has like ten sweaters.”

“They’re comfortable! Why have you been poking around in my trunk anyway?”

“Because you let me borrow one, remember?”

“Oh, right. I still need that back. You better not have messed it up.” Draco and Harry descended the front steps. It was dusk, and the last faint rays of sunlight stretched across the sky, painting it with streaks of red.

“Follow me.” said Draco, and in a moment of inspiration, led Harry to his forest clearing. He wasn’t hoping for anything, he knew better than that. It had just been a long day of truth after truth, and this was the place where Draco was most comfortable when outside the castle. A look of apprehension dawned on Harry’s face as they entered the trees, but he didn’t say anything.

When they entered the soft circle of grass, Draco cast hanging lights around, and Harry smiled.

“They’re like little stars.” Harry said softly, setting down the food. Draco and Harry sat, lit by the glow of the lights. Draco could hear the soft chirping of crickets among the undergrowth, and suddenly remembered something. He muttered a spell and transfigured a blade of grass into parchment, before spelling words onto it and folding it deftly into a paper dragon, which he then enchanted to fly back to the castle.

“What was that for?” asked Harry curiously, and Draco snagged a sandwich.

“Hermione and Weasley.” he explained. “I just wrote that we’re having a picnic-” he smirked- “as plebian as that sounds.” Harry shook his head with amusement.

“What, purebloods never have picnics?” he commented incredulously.

“Not the ones I know. If we eat outside it’s still a fancy thing, and definitely no one sits on the grass.” replied Draco. Harry chuckled, and for a while the two boys ate, watching the stars come out above them.

Draco was biting into an éclair when Harry spoke up.

“It’s weird being back in here. The forest. Last time I was here I died.”

“It was weird for me too, at first. But during the day this clearing is sunny, and it almost feels like a different place.” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “We can leave if you want,” offered Draco, a little ashamed he hadn’t remembered earlier.

“No, I see what you mean. I like it.” Harry lay back in the grass, and Draco almost had to force his eyes away from Harry. “Is this where you come when you leave?”

“Usually. I wander a bit, but I always end up here.” answered Draco, the question not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. He’d already shared so much with Harry, this little bit more felt almost normal to say.

“Look, a phoenix feather. Must be from Fawkes. McGonagall said he was still at Hogwarts.” Harry held up a red feather, and Draco coughed. He’d almost forgotten about what happened yesterday.

“Oh. When I was here yesterday I saw a phoenix. Must’ve left a feather.” Draco said nonchalantly. The details of what had happened here the other day was something Draco was not going to share with anyone, even Harry, and that was all he was going to say.

Harry was studying Draco’s face, and Draco fidgeted. “You’re not telling me something.” said Harry softly. Draco sighed. Of course the other boy could read him.

“Yes.” Draco answered. Harry waited, but this time Draco stayed silent.

….

Harry still held the phoenix feather in his hand. It was curiously warm, and Harry, with a tightness in his chest, knew that it was from Fawkes.

Harry also knew that Draco was withholding something from him. He didn’t know if he should push the other boy this time, especially since Draco’s face was quite stoic. Harry had a feeling he wouldn’t budge easily, if at all. So Harry, with a small frown, changed the subject, but resolved not to forget about it quite yet.

“So were you thinking of getting a tattoo?” asked Harry, and a look of relief flashed briefly across Draco’s face at the change of topic.

“I was thinking about it. On top of- of the scar. So I can associate it with something else.” replied Draco. Harry saw his right hand again twitch toward his left forearm, then Draco’s fingers curled and he rested his hand in his lap.

Harry nodded, and his eyes moved to the stars overhead. Infinite sprinkles of light dotted the black canvas, and Harry felt a sense of wonder.

“Are you ready for the trip?” Harry turned at Draco’s voice and found him laying on his side, propping up his head with an arm.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Just going to be weird without Ron and Hermione, though. But I’m doing the teacher program.”

“McGonagall convinced me to take the Healer program. Daphne is too,” said Draco, now lying on his back. His blond hair was shining faintly.

“Are you interested in that?”  
“I’d never really thought about it, to be honest. But now I have, and I think I’ll at least try it.” Draco admitted. Harry saw his lips curve up into a rueful smile. “Not that many places   
here will take me, no matter what career I choose.”

“You never know.” replied Harry, eyes tracing the invisible lines of the constellations. “Hey, isn’t there a constellation called Draco?”

“Yeah, they named a constellation after me. I’m that wonderful. You should aspire to be like me.” Harry chuckled. “Yeah, there is.”

“Where is it?” Draco lifted his wand, and caused a beam of light to run out of it. He used it like a pointer, going from one star to the next in graceful lines and swoops. Harry   
watched, following the lines, until Draco lowered his arm. They lay in peaceful silence, until Draco sat up with a yelp.

“What?” asked Harry.

“Bloody bug crawled over my hand. It had so many legs.” Draco shuddered comically and Harry laughed.

“You’re very dramatic.”

“Very astute of you to notice, Potty.”

“We should probably head back up now, before Filch locks the doors.” Harry said, somewhat regretfully. It was nice out here, lying under the stars.

“Eh, don’t worry about that. Easy to get around.” Draco waved a hand flippantly as they ambled out of the clearing. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Of course. You can just levitate yourself, or use a Disillusionment Charm. Don’t tell me Gryffindors never sneak out.” Draco said with amusement.

“We do, I have a lot. But I usually just use my Invisibility Cloak.”

“Like a Demiguise one? Those don’t last very long, do they?”

“No, mine is from my dad. It’s a long story, but it’s been around forever and it’s always worked.” explained Harry, thinking of the Deathly Hallows. His cloak was the only one left, really, and the only one that he wanted.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Alright.”

They trotted up the steps to the front doors and Harry saw with a small pang of relief that they were still open, but certainly not for much longer. The two boys walked through, and began up the stairs to the eighth year dorms.

The staircase they were on began to move, and they paused halfway up, waiting for it to settle. Once it did, the stone sliding into place with a small scrape, Harry and Draco jogged up the staircase and entered another hall. Their footsteps were in time, noticed Harry. He glanced over at Draco as they stopped in front of the dragon.

“Aurea Anthos.” The portrait swung open.

“What does that mean? It’s Latin, right?” asked Harry, vaguely curious.

“The first word means gold, I think. The second could be anything from flower to a random word someone made up.” Harry snorted as they entered the common room. Hermione and Ron looked up from their seats in the common room.

“Picnic?” asks Hermione skeptically, holding Draco’s note. “At night?”

“We wanted to watch the stars, there was a meteor shower.” lied Draco, and Harry was glad that Draco was better at it than Harry himself was. Once they said good night to Hermione and Ron, Harry and Draco tramped up the stairs to the dormitory. Harry yawned before getting into bed, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco sat through a long day of classes, but found his mind kept wandering to three things. First, Luna Lovegood. Harry had hinted that she would agree to give him a tattoo, and had even agreed to help him find Luna so he could ask her for the favor, but Draco was hesitant. Facing the girl who’d been locked up in the basement of his house for months...even if he had helped her, he still was not sure he should bother her. Why should she forgive him, do anything for him?

Harry had said she was a very forgiving and kind person, and that fit what Draco remembered of her. When he’d brought her and Mr. Ollivander hot food, and some healing salve for the cuts and bruises inflicted, she’d been surprisingly cheerful, thanking Draco, smiling at him, starting a conversation about some magical creature that Draco didn’t know about (but apparently, his house was full of them). It had jarred Draco then, because why would a captive be grateful to someone who wouldn’t let them out of a horrible place?

He did want to go apologize to her, though. Yes, he would, decided Draco, because Luna deserved that much. She was his cousin, after all, even if her father was a bit loony.

The second thing that was on Draco’s mind was Beauxbatons, and the rapidly approaching trip. They left in two days, and Draco was excited, not that he would ever show excitement. Didn’t fit with the aloof image. But Draco was- he was looking forward to a new school, new people who wouldn’t judge him as much, treated him normally. Even the   
Healer Program, and practicing his French, which his mother had made him learn when he was little.

One thing he was concerned about was leaving his mother in the Manor all alone for Christmas, but in the last letter they’d exchanged his mother had mentioned that she was glad for him and his opportunity to go to France, not to worry about her, and that she was going to try to reconnect with her sister, Andromeda. Draco felt a little guilty that he hadn’t spent much thought on his mother, but he had written her back a few days ago. So he was glad that she would hopefully have Andromeda and the baby- Lupin’s kid- to give her some company.

The third and final thing on Draco’s mind was, unsurprisingly, Harry. Draco managed every now and then to shove his crush from his mind, but the thought of him always seemed to creep back in and make itself at home.

Draco sighed as he filed out behind the other students from his Ancient Runes class. He’d barely had the focus to jot down the homework, much less take notes. He’d have to borrow Hermione’s tonight, as they were both in the same course but not the same class, regretfully.

When Draco got to the common room he plunked down next to Daphne and Pansy.

“Hey.” he said.

“You look knackered,” Pansy snickered, and Draco narrowed his tired eyes at her.

“Bugger off.”

“Now I know you’re knackered, if you’re resorting to boring insults like that.” she commented, and Daphne snorted.

“Whatever,” muttered Draco. “Have either of you seen Potter?”

“No, why?” answered Daphne, a curious glint in her eyes, and Pansy echoed her.

“He said he would take me to Luna Lovegood.” Pansy laughed loudly, then subsided.

“Oh, you’re serious? What do you want with her? She’s loony.”

“Be nice!” Daphne smacked Pansy’s arm, and Pansy stuck out her tongue.

“I’ll tell you later.” replied Draco, hopping up as he spotted Harry stepping through the portrait hole. “See you guys.” He strolled over to Harry. “So, d’ya know where Lovegood is?”

“Not at this second,” said Harry, an amused expression on his face. “Give me a second and we can go check the Map.” Draco nodded, and followed him up to their dorm, where Harry set down his school bag and tossed the blank piece of parchment to Draco. He rested the point of his wand against the parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Draco said, and waited impatiently for the ink to fill in. Once it did, he unfolded all of the sections of the Map and searched for Luna’s name.

“There she is.” Harry peeked over his shoulder and pointed at the edge of the map. Draco blushed at the other boy’s closeness, glad Harry didn’t have a view of his face, then Draco frowned.

“Why is she in the forest? Like way in it?”

“Luna likes to visit the thestrals, there’s a clearing where they congregate. She feeds them and pets them and stuff.” explained Harry. “I went with her once in fifth year.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Draco let out a breath. “I guess I’ll go join her and the thestrals, then.”

“Want me to come?”

“I think I should do this myself.” explained Draco. He’d arrived at this conclusion only a moment before. Harry nodded knowledgeably. “Can I take this?” Draco held up the Marauder’s Map. Harry eyed him.

“Nothing better happen to it.” warned Harry, and Draco smirked but pledged nothing would befall it before leaving the common room. It was still quite nice out; the sun had not yet begin to sink, and there was still some trace of warmth in the air.

Ten minutes later Draco weaved his way between the tree trunks, checking Luna’s location against his as he went. Soon he burst out of the thick undergrowth into a relatively clear area, and saw a head of long, wavy blond locks that reminded him of his own.

“Hello, Draco.” came a mild voice, and Luna turned round. Draco saw she was stroking the bony nose of a thestral, and slowly walked forward.

“Hello, Luna.” he replied, keeping a careful eye on the thestral. She noticed his gaze and smiled.

“Don’t be afraid, they’re quite gentle really. People tend to avoid them because they’re…”

“Different.” finished Draco, finally reaching her side. She nodded and pulled out a strip of meat to feed the thestral, which ate it greedily and nosed Luna’s hand for more. “I came to apologize. I’m so sorry that you were locked up, and had to go through all of that. And I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t help you more during that time.” Draco said seriously, and Luna smiled at him again.

“It’s alright. You were very kind.” she replied. Draco couldn’t help but smile back. Luna began chatting to him, walking amongst the thestrals and introducing them to Draco, who trailed after her, the Marauder’s Map in his robes. Luna gave him a piece of meat, and the two of them fed the thestrals for a while, Draco listening placidly as she told him about Nargles and Crumple-Headed Snorkacks.

She was all right, Luna, thought Draco. He’d used to share Pansy’s opinion of her, that she was an oddity, but she was the kindest person Draco had ever known, and he found her talk of magical creatures interesting, and calming, in a way. Soon Luna finished her store of meat, and she and Draco walked back up to the school.

“Harry showed me the tattoo you did for him,” began Draco. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, I did rather like that one.” she replied.

“Could you show me how to do one?” asked Draco. He no longer wanted to ask her to do it for him, as he’d realized going down there just for that was rude, and he’d enjoyed her company. She didn’t owe him any favors, either.

“If you want,” agreed Luna. “Or I could do one for you?” Draco smiled and shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he started, but she tilted her head.

“It’s not a bother. I’d love to, it’s rather fun to do.” Draco got the sense she was sincere, so he accepted gratefully.

….

Harry was walking down to dinner when he saw Draco and Luna walking in together, and hurried up to join them.

“Hello, Luna, Draco.” he greeted, and they both smiled at him. Harry thought Draco looked rather calmer than he usually was; he supposed Luna’s gentle ways had rubbed off on him a bit.

“Hello, Harry.” replied Luna. “How are you?” The three of them entered the Great Hall and strolled down the aisle between two of the House tables.

“I’m well, thanks. You?”

“Quite good. You know, you have less Wrackspurts around your head than you did before.” Harry smiled bemusedly. “Well, this is me.” said Luna, gesturing to a spot at the Ravenclaw table. “Goodbye.”

“Thanks again.” replied Draco, and she smiled at him before sitting down. The two boys continued down the aisle to the eighth year table and sat across from Ron and Hermione. 

“Hey,” greeted Draco, and Harry echoed him.

“Off to France in two days!” exclaimed Ron. “You two ready?” Draco and Harry exchanged a glance, and Harry grinned.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. And yes, Hermione, I’ll write to you.”

“Both of you.” Hermione corrected sternly, staring pointedly at Draco, who smirked.

“Yeah, we can do a joint letter.” he answered sincerely, and Harry laughed before starting to eat.

An hour later the four of them left the Great Hall, and Harry walked behind Hermione and Ron with Draco.

“So how’d it go?” he asked, and Draco smiled, his face still more peaceful-looking than Harry had ever seen him.

“It was quite enjoyable. I apologized, and we fed the thestrals, and she told me about something called a Nargle. I didn’t want to bother her, but I asked how she did the tattoo, and she offered to do it for me, and I let her.” Draco shrugged, but Harry could tell he was pleased.

“Can I see it?”

“Once we’re in the dorm, yeah.”

They said goodnight early and headed up the small spiral staircase. Dean and Neville were inside, talking.

“Hey Harry, Malfoy.” said Dean, and Harry was a little surprised at his cordial tone when greeting Draco until he remembered Dean had never really had a problem with anyone; it was Seamus that always had some drama going on. Neville waved at Harry and nodded at Draco, who nodded back.

Dean and Neville left, and Draco sat on his bed before pulling up his left sleeve, and Harry almost gasped.

There was a gorgeous phoenix tattoo, inked in abstract swirls of vivid reds and oranges that greatly resembled flame. The tattoo had its wings outstretched, and covered almost all of Draco’s burn scar.

“It’s amazing,” Harry breathed. The tattoo was captivating, and he almost wanted to run a finger down it to ensure it wasn’t real fire. Draco smiled self-consciously.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” replied the blond.

“Why’d you choose a phoenix?” asked Harry, somewhat gently.

“Well before she cast the spell, she asked me to think of what it wanted to look like.” Draco started, and Harry nodded. Luna had done that with his tattoo as well. “And I honestly didn’t have a decided thing, so I was in a bit of a panic, but then I thought of seeing that phoenix- Fawkes- and I thought it would fit. When I saw him, he… he brought back my positive memories, and that’s what I’m reminded of when I see the tattoo.” finished Draco quietly.

Harry nodded again, slowly, pondering this new information. So Draco had seen Fawkes, on that day he wouldn’t talk about, and had seen his happiest memories… Harry had never heard of that about a phoenix, but then again, they were powerful magical creatures.

“It’s great.” replied Harry firmly, and Draco grinned almost shyly, not meeting Harry’s eyes. They stayed up and talked a little while longer, about their trip tomorrow, before finally going to sleep, and Harry’s final thought before drifting off was of the fiery tattoo, and how glad he was that Draco could cover something he despised with something he loved.

The next morning, Harry packed his things, except for his school items. He could hear his heart beating quickly from anticipation of the trip, and he smiled to himself as he closed the lid of his trunk and latched it shut.

Transfiguration went relatively quickly; they practiced advanced human transfiguration, turning your arms into brooms, for one. Harry didn’t quite manage but all together he wasn’t that bothered (who needed brooms as arms anyway?) and had a cheerful lunch with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Dean, who struck up a conversation about muggle soccer with Harry, while Ron and Neville looked on bemusedly.

When Harry arrived to Potions, he saw Daphne and Draco talking at his desk and went over to join them.

“Hey,” he said, looping the strap of his bag over his chair. There was already a cauldron of what Harry assumed was a not-completed brew of Amortentia, softly simmering away.

“Hey.” replied Draco, and Daphne echoed him before smiling at them and going to join her desk partner.

“So, Amortentia?” asked Harry, peering at the silvery liquid.

“Yeah.” confirmed Draco. “Can you go get-”

“Ingredients, yeah. What page is the recipe?”

“264. Everything from step 56 onwards.” Harry nodded, a bit daunted by the complicated recipe, but strolled over to the cupboard along with a few other people and began grabbing this jar or that. When he had collected an armful of things and checked the book, he walked back over to his desk, where Draco was intently watching the steaming concoction.

“I need the lacewing flies.” he demanded, and Harry handed him the jar, which he snatched. “Grind the dragon eggshell. Fine powder.” he commanded, and with a slightly amused look Harry obliged.

He was pretty used to this focused, demanding Draco in Potions class, especially during test day’s when they brewed. Harry had learned just to go with it, and everything would turn out usually almost perfect.

They worked in that manner for the next half hour, until Draco let out a great sigh and sat back in his seat.

“Alright, now we just let it simmer and stir. Can you stir?” he asked Harry in a tired voice, and Harry nodded. “Counter clockwise ten times, then clockwise ten until it turns pearly-colored. I’ll tell you when,” he instructed.

“Got it.” replied Harry, picking up the stirring stick. “Ten counter clockwise… ten clockwise…” Draco rubbed his eyes and closed a few jars.

“I can’t believe we’re going to France in a few hours,” he commented absentmindedly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Harry glanced at him quickly before returning his attention to the potion.

“Yeah. It should be a good experience, though.” he answered vaguely, trying to remember which stir he was on.

“You sound like Hermione,” Draco snorted. “It’ll be fun. And people will treat us normally. I won’t have to deal with people attacking me, you won’t have to deal with adoring fans and the autograph-hopeful.” Harry made a noise of agreement. “Why don’t you give out autographs?” mused Draco, spinning a ladle between his fingers.

“It reminds me of Lockhart, for one thing.”

“God, he was a self-obsessed ninny.”

“Like you then?”

“Shut up, Potty.” Harry grinned.

“Also, it reminds me of Colin Creevey. He died at the battle, but he was always asking me for an autograph or a photo.” he continued, more somberly. Draco looks a little surprised, but nodded. “I think the potion’s ready-” Draco leaned over the cauldron, his shoulder brushing Harry’s.

“Yeah, it is. Steam’s rising in spirals, mother-of-pearl sheen.” he agreed, sitting back down, and Harry congratulates himself on not messing it up.

….

“Alright, you should be done or close to it by now. Final test, go ahead and smell it, then cork a phial for each person and bring it up to my desk. Once you do you’re free to go.” instructed Professor Athme, and Draco inwardly groaned.

He was apprehensive about smelling the Amortentia, for he had a strong suspicion of what he would smell and didn’t want to have to invent something if Harry asked him. But the other boy was already leaning over their cauldron, inhaling deeply before leaning back with a slightly bemused expression.

“It changed from sixth year,” commented Harry, and Draco felt a leap of curiosity. “The first two are still the same, but the last one smells...minty, instead of flowery.” Draco nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, but his insides were burning with a question that neither of them could really answer- what did those scents signify? Was there a possibility… no. No use in getting his hopes up.

Draco sighed and cautiously breathed in the fumes, blinking at the warm air. Vanilla....something sugary….and the smell of wood and leather, like Quidditch equipment. Suddenly he blanched. It was treacle tart that he was smelling, that was the something sugary. He’d smelled it enough times at dinner to recognize it. Draco scowled, leaning back from the steam. Well, now there was no question. He was smelling Harry.

The Gryffindor’s shampoo was vanilla-scented, and every now and then Draco got a faint whiff when they hung out. Treacle tart, well, Harry adored the blasted sugary thing, and played Quidditch.

“Bloody wonderful,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you smell?” asked Harry, and Draco had to almost drag his eyes away from Harry’s green ones.

“Cologne, something flowery, and snow,” lied Draco, listing random things off the top of his head. Harry nodded, before going to get two phials for them. Draco watched him walk off, his fingers digging into the edge of the table. God, Harry Potter would be the death of him.

Draco’s quiet as they pack up and leave for the common room.

“I’ll see you later, I have to talk to Daphne about something,” he lied, again, and left Harry’s side abruptly, not letting himself look back. He jogged up to Daphne and fell into step with her. “Hey.”

“Hi Draco. Interesting lesson, yeah?”

“You could say that,” replied Draco wryly. “Did your potion turn out alright?”

“A bit off, as my desk mate’s a little slow, but overall yeah. Yours?”

“Decent.”

“Which knowing you, means perfect,” said Daphne with a grin, knocking into his shoulder. Draco knocked her right back. “What did you smell?”

“Oh.” Draco hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to keep up the lie to her as well, before sighing. Daphne’s much better at reading him for lies that Harry is, might as well tell her. It’s not like it’s an easy connection to make for anyone but Draco.

“Vanilla, treacle tart, and Quidditch equipment.” he answered quickly. “You?” Daphne gave him a look of curiosity.

“Pumpkin, cinnamon, and old books.” she responded. “Unfortunately no one I know smells like any of those, though I’m not sure I’d be attracted to anyone smelling of pumpkin.”

“Mm.” said Draco.

“So why’d you scurry over here? Potter looked a little confused,” she snickered.

“Oh, nothing.” Draco replied nonchalantly. She gave him a look, but he ignored it. “So ready for France?”

“Merlin, yes. I’ve been waiting for this day to come for so long. I can’t wait to start the Healer’s program with you,” she said with a grin. “Also French boys.”

“Also French boys.” agreed Draco as they reached the common room. “Mother was delighted that I’ll get to practice my French, she made me take lessons as a child but I stopped a long time ago. Bit rusty.”

“Oo la la, how romantic.” Daphne laughed. “Blond, handsome, tall, speaks french, rich. Quite an impressive list, if you ask me.” Draco rolled his eyes with a smile and spoke the password, letting Daphne step inside first. They strolled over to Blaise and Pansy and sat down next to them on the faded purple sofa.

“Hey, look who it is. The fancy french exchange students.” teased Pansy. Draco smirked.

“Oui, c'est nous.” he replied, and Pansy raised her eyebrows while Blaise snickered.

“You said not five minutes ago you were rusty!” exclaimed Daphne.

“Well, maybe I exaggerated.” amended Draco.

“More like you wanted a chance to show off,” Blaise said dryly.

“That too.” replied Draco with a grin.

“What did you say?” asked Daphne, repeating what he’d said and butchering it completely.

“I said yes, that’s us. And you’re pronouncing it horrendously.” Draco smirked, amused.

“Is there some sort of spell that lets you speak seamless foreign language?” asked Pansy. “I feel like I’ve heard of something like that.”

“Not that I know of,” replied Draco, and Blaise nodded agreement.

“Hey, doesn’t Theo live in France?” Pansy said, her grin suggestive. Draco coughed.

“Yeah.”

“Any...plans?” She raised her eyebrows at Draco, who sighed.

“Merlin, Pansy. And no. I haven’t talked to him since… well, sixth year.”

“What you guys did didn’t look like talking to me,” muttered Blaise, and Pansy cackled. Draco smacked Blaise’s arm, which was the closest bit of him he could reach. Daphne snickered.

“Oh yeah, Draco told me about that time you all walked in on him and Theo.” Daphne teased, and Draco huffed.

“Oh, fuck off.” Draco sat back in his seat. “Shall I tell them your story then, Daphne? When your sister walked in on you and the older man getting it on?” Pansy and Blaise laughed, and Daphne colored.

“We were not getting it on, you lying prat. We were kissing, and he was only a year older than me.” she retorted. Draco smirked.

“Details, details.” he said airily. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse from Pansy.” Pansy kicked him and he laughed at her as Daphne immediately began trying to pry the story out of her.

“Well, shall we go down to the Halloween feast, then?” announced Pansy loudly, fending off Daphne’s questions, and they all agreed.

Draco was a little tempted to sit with Harry, Weasley, and Hermione, but he did want to enjoy one last night with his Slytherin friends, who he admitted he’d been neglecting a little lately. So he ate dinner with the three of them and managed to stop himself from glancing down the table at Potter too often.

….

Harry walked down to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, still slightly hurt and confused from Draco’s abrupt departure. He hadn’t done anything to annoy him, Harry thought. Well, that he knew of. But maybe he was just overexaggerating things, Draco probably just had needed to talk to Daphne, like he’d said. No matter that something in the other boy’s tone had reminded him of when Draco had lied and told Hermione they were out watching a meteor shower when there had been none.

Draco had been a little stingy after they finished the potion, though, mused Harry as they entered the Great Hall, but forgot all about Draco when he beheld the Hall.

How had Harry forgotten it was Halloween? The room was bedecked with grinning, floating pumpkins, and the ghosts flew up and down the aisles. Harry saw the Bloody Baron stab a student with his see-through sword, and cackle as the student turned and berated him for it. Bats fluttered amongst the rafters, and the false sky was dark and cloudy, with a full moon shining between the grey wisps of cloud. Candles were dispersed amongst the pumpkins, and Harry spotted skeletons jerkily moving on the sides of the room. The tables were groaning with rich food, and the three of them hastened to the eighth year table to sit and eat.

“I forgot it was Halloween,” admitted Harry, still staring around the room. Not that he hadn’t seen it before, but it had been quite a while.

Ron laughed through his mouthful of potatoes, and Hermione shot Ron an exasperated look, which Harry snickered at. Sometimes Hermione was the girlfriend, sometimes she was the overbearing mother hen.

“That’s understandable though.” said Hermione reasonably, snagging a roast potato off of Ron’s plate and popping it into her mouth, ignoring Ron’s protests. “I mean, you leave tonight!”

Harry smiled. “‘Yeah, I do. It’s still almost not real, this trip. But I’m looking forward to it.” Hermione nodded wisely.

“I think it’ll be good for you. Lord knows you deserve a break.” she replied with a wry smile. Ron made a noise of agreement, now enthusiastically cutting into a piece of chicken.

Dinner was delicious, as the house-elves always outdid themselves at feasts. Harry was about to help himself to a piece of treacle tart, before spotting Draco down the table, gesticulating wildly with an éclair in hand. Harry smiled and took instead a piece of dark chocolate, remembering Draco’s tirade about the horrors of too much sugar, but pulled a face at the bitter chocolate. Harry set it aside and took a slice of chocolate cake instead.

When the last crumbs of food had been cleared away, Headmistress McGonagall stood up gracefully and tapped her spoon to the side of her glass. Everyone settled into silence.

“Happy Halloween to all of you,” she said. “Now, could all of the eighth years leaving for Beauxbatons tonight please stay behind. The rest of you may go on to your dorms.” The students at the House tables began to trickle out.

Hermione jumped up and hugged Harry tightly, and only when Ron cleared his throat did she let go.

“You better write,” sniffed Hermione as Ron gave him a quick hug.

“I will. I’ll miss both of you.” replied Harry with a small smile, drawing Hermione into another hug. She let go after a minute.

“Goodbye, then. Have a wonderful time.”

“See you, Harry. We’ll miss you. Mum also said she’s still sending you a Christmas present.” said Ron, and Harry grinned and waved as they moved down the table. With some amusement Harry saw Hermione pounce on Draco and hug him goodbye, which he appeared to grudgingly but sincerely return. Hermione and Ron waved to Harry one last time, before leaving the Great Hall with the other eighth years not leaving.

Harry stood up and join Daphne and Draco at the other end of the table.

“Hey, Harry,” greeted Daphne, smiling at him.

“Hi.” he replied. McGonagall began to talk to the ten eighth years left sitting.

“Now, your things have already been brought down and sent off, and you will be traveling by Floo…”

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” whispered Harry to Draco sitting beside him. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“No.” he whispered back. “I just had to ask Daphne about something, like I said.” Harry nodded and Draco smirked, before the two of them tuned back in to McGonagall’s announcements.

“...staying in dorms of two. You will get to choose who your dorm partner is, though obviously they must be of the same gender as yourself. Now, are there any questions?”

No one spoke up, so McGonagall nodded and produced a large bowl of Floo powder.

“Alright, one at a time. Just say Beauxbatons,” she instructed, and the ten of them formed a line. Parvati, Padma, Sue Li, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Micheal Corner, Ernie Macmillan, and Daphne, Draco, and Harry.

“Dorm buddies?” asked Harry, and Draco glanced at him, his eyes slightly hesitant.

“...Alright.” he agreed. Soft whooshing sounds came from in front of them as one by one, students stepped into the fireplace and Floo’d.

Daphne stepped daintily into the sooty fireplace and took a handful of powder. “Beauxbatons,” she said confidently, throwing the powder down, and there was a flare of green flames and she was gone. Harry’s heart jumped to his throat.

The flames flashing vivid green, bright and blinding, just like when Harry had died and the last thing he’d seen was a green light, overtaking his vision as Voldemort laughed-

“Hey- hey. Harry. Look at me.” Draco’s voice sounded far off, like he was rooms away. Harry was inhaling quick, shallow, scared breaths, and he suddenly realized his hand was pressed to his scar, not because it hurt but as a reflex from the past. “It’s alright. Breathe. You’re safe; you’re alive. It’s alright.” The other boy’s voice was steady, calm, and Harry latched onto it like a lifeline and let it pull him out of his head.

Harry felt the solid weight of Draco’s hands on his shoulders, and he let his breathing slow down before he raised his shaky gaze to meet the blond’s cool grey eyes.

“Thanks,” Harry said, letting out a breath. “It- the fire- it reminded me of...” he trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

Draco nodded, stepping back to give Harry some space. “No problem. Will you be alright to Floo?” Harry was dimly aware of McGonagall and a few other teachers standing around them. He imagined being swallowed by that green light and he mutely shook his head.

“I’m sorry-” he started quietly, but Draco shook his head firmly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Would Apparating be easier for you?” Draco asked.

“I could Apparate, yeah.” replied Harry, a little calmer now.

“Well then, I can take you, Potter, with Side Along Apparation, since you won’t be able to visualize Beauxbatons.” The Headmistress spoke, and Harry glanced at Draco, who nodded subtly but encouragingly.

“Alright. Thank you, Headmistress.” It was slightly embarrassing, thought Harry, having his teacher Apparate him, but the alternative was Floo and Harry couldn’t do that. It almost reminded him of Apparating with Dumbledore, back in sixth year. He smiled a little at the memory of Dumbledore and McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder. Soon Harry felt the gut-wrenching twist of Apparation and his vision whirled, until they rematerialized at Beauxbatons.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco’s first thought was that Beauxbatons was beautiful.

After Harry and McGonagall had Apparated, Draco had quickly Floo’d to follow everyone else, and now he stood in a courtyard, surrounded by lush, delicate gardens. Fountains dotted the landscape, elegantly sculpted out of white marble. Neatly trimmed, low hedges bordered the gardens. Late sunlight glinted off of a lake beyond the gardens, and distant picturesque mountains completed the gorgeous painting.

The school itself was a gargantuan chateau, as large as Hogwarts or bigger, but far grander. It had white walls and rounded towers topped with grey roofs, and Draco could spot more carvings and sculptures adorning the entrances and sides of the school.

Draco suddenly saw the rest of the Hogwarts students, clustered together before a large fountain, which had a small plaque on it, unreadable from his distance. He walked slowly to the group, still trying to take in everything around him.

“Hey, there you are.” Harry appeared out of the knot of students, and Draco stepped over to him. “McGonagall dropped me off and went back to Hogwarts. This place is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, it is.” Draco replied. He smiled as he read the plaque on the fountain. “Didn’t you have something to do with Nicholas Flamel in first year?”

“I never met him, but I had a lot to do with his Sorcerer’s Stone.” responded Harry with amusement. “Why?”

“This fountain is dedicated to him and his wife. Says they met at Beauxbatons, and this fountain has special properties.” Draco rolled his eyes at that.

“Interesting,” said Harry.

“Oh, that old thing? Please. It’s about as magical as the flowers.” came a lilting voice from behind them, tinted with an elegant French accent. Draco turned around and saw a very pretty girl with dark hair and olive skin, dressed in the blue Beauxbatons uniform. She looked to be their age, and smiled mischievously at them.

“Donc, très magique alors?” Draco replied. So, very magical then?Harry snorted, and the girl laughed in delight.

“Non. We just have very good gardeners.” She extended a graceful hand. “I’m Camille. Nice to meet you.” Draco exchanged a glance with Harry and smiled as he shook Camille’s hand.

“Draco. Nice to meet you as well.” he answered smoothly. Camille then greeted Harry.

“I’m Harry.” he said, and Draco wondered what it was like for him, to just be Harry and not Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Draco smiled wryly to himself. Probably a similar feeling to just being Draco, instead of Draco Malfoy, the ex-Death Eater whose father was in Azkaban.

Draco looked around and saw that an abnormally large, stately woman was making her way towards the group of students. Madam Maxime, he recognized her from the Triwizard tournament fourth year. Camille gave the two of them one last smile and a wave before heading to her side.

“Welcome, exchange students.” said Madam Maxime grandly, also with an accent. “We are so pleased to have you here, and hope you enjoy your time at our humble school.” Draco suppressed a smirk. If this was humble, his manor was a hovel. How very French. “After we have dinner, some of my students will lead you to your dorms, and then tomorrow morning you will shadow students with the same schedule as yourselves until you know your schedules and classes. Now please, this way.” She began to walk toward the school, and they all trailed behind her like ducklings following their mother.

“This place is amazing,” whispered Daphne as she came up next to Draco, and he glanced at her.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.” he agreed as they passed underneath of an arched stone gate, decorated with intricate patterns set into the pale stone.

“I hope the boys are just as wonderful,” sighed Daphne, and Draco snickered.

“For both of our sakes.” he remarked. Draco glanced to his left and saw Harry in conversation with Susan Bones, and didn’t know whether to feel relieved or stumped that Harry hadn’t heard his words. He supposed he should tell Harry he was gay, if only because they were good friends and he trusted the Gryffindor. Not to mention his little crush would   
definitely not go anywhere unless he knew whether Harry liked boys as well, though he doubted it.

The inside of the chateau was much like the outside, mused Draco. Elegant and simple, but clearly decorated by someone with taste. The dining hall was much the same, adorned with crystal chandeliers instead of floating candles, like Hogwarts. The tables were also wood, but polished and smooth. A choir of wood nymphs was singing softly.

“You may sit wherever you like, we have no Houses here.” Madam Maxime waved a giant hand at the tables behind her. All of the students already in the hall were standing, all dressed in the blue uniform of Beauxbatons. A large crest adorned the wall behind the staff table, showing the crossed wands emblem that represented the school. As soon as   
Madam Maxime sat, the students followed, and soon began to eat. The gentle murmurings of conversation gradually filled the hall, and the Hogwarts students sat themselves down at a table, somewhat hesitantly.

Draco was next to Harry and Camille, and across from Daphne and two other students, girl and a boy. Apparently the Beauxbatons ate dinner a bit later, because they’d just had the Halloween Feast back at Hogwarts.

“Hello,” said the boy confidently. He looked very much like me, thought Draco with some amusement. They both had pale skin and blond hair, and delicate features. “My name is Simon, and this is Charlotte.” Simon waved a hand at a pretty black girl sitting next to him, her hair in tight braids.

“Hi.” replied Draco, nodding at the two of them. “I’m Draco, and this is Harry.”

“Draco speaks French,” announced Camille from next to him, as she spooned some sort of soup into her bowl.

“Où avez-vous appris?” said Simon, tilting his head. Draco grinned.

“Ma mère m’a appris quand j’étais petit.” he responded, and Harry shook his head at him.

“Please don’t force me to learn French, Draco.” he quipped. Draco laughed.

“Simon asked me where I learned and I said my mother taught me when I was little.” he explained. Harry nodded.

“Wait a minute.” Camille said. “Harry- like Harry Potter?” Draco pressed his lips together, amused. So much for Harry’s anonymity.

….

Harry smiled ruefully.

“Yeah.” he responded, and swept aside his hair to show them the scar. So much for being anonymous, he thought to himself as they exclaimed and began asking questions. He answered as much as he could, and to his surprise the conversation eventually moved onto classes and the school’s customs. Draco elbowed him.

“Now that wasn’t that horrible,” he said quietly to Harry. “I think you’ll still have less attention here than at Hogwarts.” Harry smiled slightly.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” he replied. Draco started to say something else, but stopped talking when the desserts appeared, and Harry had to laugh at the way his eyes roved over the dishes. “You’d think we didn’t already eat, Draco. You know, you’re not all that different from Ron, even with all your fancy talk. You both love food.” Harry teased. Draco glared at him.

“Everyone loves food, Potty. And I am not like Weasley,” he sniffed, selecting a pastry.

Camille leaned over Draco to talk to Harry. “We have the best chefs in the country here. It’s quite a treat. Here, try this.” She handed Harry a little tart of some sort, filled with what looked like apples. He obliged and bit into it, nodding as he chewed.

“That’s good,” Harry commented. “I like the cinnamon.” Camille smiled in satisfaction.

“So how is it at Hogwarts? Is it very different from our school?”

“It’s a lot less elegant,” replied Draco. “We have a lot of portraits on the walls, moving staircases, suits of armor in the halls, and a lot of the castle is open to the outside. Everything is stone, usually lit by torches or candles. But it’s warm, and homey.” he finished, and Harry vocalized agreement. Camille wrinkled her nose delicately.

“Sounds very medieval,” she responded.

Harry snorted. “It is, pretty much. But it’s nice. Are students here in school for seven years also?”

“Yes, though we sit our exams after six years of study. And from what I can tell we have a lot of the same core classes, like Charms and Transfiguration. Hogwarts doesn’t have programs for the sixth and seventh years like we do here, oui?”

“Er, yeah. How many programs do they offer here?” asked Harry.

“Quite a few. Although the Healer and Teacher ones are the only ones that can be done in one year of study, not two. I suppose that’s why those were the only options for the ten of you Hogwarts students.” Harry nodded thoughtfully, and the two of them tuned in to Draco’s conversation with Simon.

“...called Hogsmeade, and everyone over third year can go there on pre scheduled weekends. Is there anything like that here?” Draco said, and Simon grinned.

“Yes, all sixth and seventh years are free to go to any nearby village on weekends, there are only about three. It is quite fun, though, you must join us sometime.” he responded.   
Draco glanced at Harry, who thought that that sounded brilliant.

“Yeah, we will.” Draco said with a smile. “Sometime.”

Ten minutes later people began trickling out, and Camille and Simon rounded up all of the Hogwarts students.

“We’ll show you the way to the dorms,” called Camille, and they followed after her as she walked confidently through the blue-painted hallways. Harry was glad for the guidance, for it was starting to look all the same in his eyes. Daphne walked next to him, while Draco was a bit ahead with Simon, chatting away with him in French.

“A bit annoying, isn’t it,” began Daphne airily. “Draco suddenly turning french.” Harry smiled in amusement.

“A bit,” he replied. “But I’m glad for him. He seems more easily comfortable here.” Daphne nodded her agreement and they walked in silence for a little while.

“So tell me.” Daphne glanced at him. “What were the highlights of the little rivalry you two had? I never knew the full story, but it seemed like something was always happening with you two.” Harry smirked.

“Well, in first year Hagrid had this dragon egg he won in a pub, it hatched and me, Ron, and Hermione were with him, and we look over and Draco’s just peering in the window, then he runs away, right. Well long story short, we tried to help Hagrid get rid of the dragon by sending it to Ron’s brother who works with dragons in Romania, but we got caught coming down from the Astronomy Tower because Draco’d tattled on us. Then we lost about a hundred and fifty points and all of us got handed detention in the Forbidden Forest, where I had to pair up with Draco after he scared Neville and then we saw Voldemort hunched over a dead unicorn.” 

Daphne was listening intently, and some amusement had glimmered in her eyes but she sobered a bit at the mention of Voldemort. “So Draco runs off screaming and leaves me behind, and I was saved by a centaur.” Harry finished, and Daphne laughed.

“Wow, that’s quite a tale. My first year was definitely not that exciting.” she remarked, as the little group reached the end of a hallway and stopped walking.

“Your trunks are here,” announced Camille, pointing to a stack of trunks and a few owl cages neatly arranged at the side of the hallway. “And dorms are these five doors. Two to a room, I assume you all already know that, though. In the morning we’ll come get you and tell you more from there. Good night.” Camille waved, then she and Simon began walking back the other way. The ten students started talking excitedly as they grabbed trunks and opened doors, and Harry chose a room at random before entering.

It was quite a nice room, thought Harry. Painted in shades of blue and white, like most everything here. One window, in between the two beds, which were without the curtains that Hogwarts beds had. Two small bedside tables, two desks with indentations for inkpots, and a bathroom.

Draco barged past him. “Wow, this is nice.” he commented as he claimed the left bed. Harry rolled his eyes and set his trunk down at the end of the other bed.

“Yeah, it is. It’s nice to have our own bathroom.” Harry replied, and Draco’s eyes widened.

“That’s wonderful. I’m showering first.” he announced, and without further ado he ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Harry heard the sound of running water, and steam began seeping out from under the door.

“Please don’t use up all the hot water,” called Harry, banging on the door. He heard Draco snicker.

“We’ll see,” he replied, and Harry shook his head, falling back onto his bed, lying down and punching his pillow into shape. It had been a good start to the trip, he mused. Harry just had to remember to write to Hermione and Ron by the end of the week. Hopefully they had an Owlery here, or an owl-post service in one of those towns Simon had talked about.

Harry sat up and began to unpack, setting his school things on his desk before entertaining himself with small charms as he waited for Draco to finish his shower.

Twenty minutes later, Draco strolled out of the bathroom in his pajamas, and Harry sat up indignantly.

“You took like twenty-five minutes!” he exclaimed.

“There’s this thing called skincare, Harry. And you’ve seen all my hair products, don’t get surprised now.” Draco retorted with a smirk. Harry sighed and walked into the bathroom, debating whether he should use some of Draco’s shampoo to piss him off or not.

….

The next morning Draco awoke, groggily blinking at the light streaming in from the window, the gauzy, see-through curtains fluttering. He’d eyed those curtains last night, knowing they were too thin to be anything but decoration. Someone knocked on their door.

“Time to get up, sleepyheads,” called Camille, and Draco heard her go and bang on all of the other dorm rooms as well. He groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow, and had almost succeeded in falling asleep again when someone prodded his shoulder.

“Draco, get up, you’ll be late.” came Harry’s voice. “They said breakfast is in ten minutes.”

“Then I have ten minutes,” muttered Draco, closing his eyes again. He heard Harry sigh and move away, probably getting ready. But then he felt a rush of cold air, and Harry was standing at the end of his bed, with his blanket. “Hey! Give that back,” ordered Draco. “What if I’d been naked?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re not, so get up.” Draco let out a lengthy sigh and slowly sat up.

“Blanket,” he demanded, his hand outstretched as he glared at Harry. Harry smirked.

“Well, now I know whenever I want you to do something for me I can just take your blanket and you’ll do it.” Draco huffed, but inwardly he knew that statement was probably true.

“Or you could just ask,” he grumbled as he swung his legs off of the bed. “Are all Gryffindors this rude?” Harry just laughed and sauntered off to the bathroom. “Damn,” Draco muttered. “You would’ve been a decent Slytherin.”

“I almost was.” came Harry’s voice. “But I didn’t want to, because you’d just been sorted into Slytherin.”

“Ha ha.”

“Are you always this talkative in the morning?” asked Harry dryly.

“I need coffee. And I should be asking you that question.” Harry snickered again, and Draco smiled to himself, secretly glad he’d made Harry laugh.

Five minutes later the two of them were out the door and entering the dining hall, where they spotted Camille and Simon sitting with Daphne and headed over to join them.

“Hey,” said Draco as he poured his coffee. “Ooh, croissants.” Daphne and Harry laughed.

“Hey, what program are you two in?” asked Daphne.

“I’m in the Healer program, you two are actually going to be shadowing me,” said Simon with a grin, motioning to Draco and Daphne, who smiled back. Draco was glad to be   
shadowing Simon, as he was funny and seemed like a nice guy so far. It was also a great bonus that he would be with Daphne.

“I’m in the Alchemy program, it’s my second year.” replied Camille. “Draco, are you drinking your coffee black?” Draco nodded as he sipped it. “Why? It’s gross like that.”

“Not to me. It’s black-”

“Like his soul,” finished Harry, and Draco remembered the many times he’d said that back at Hogwarts, and the two boys grinned at each other. Camille laughed.

“Harry, you’ll be shadowing Amelie, she’s over there.” Camille waved to a pretty Asian girl sitting at another table, and she waved back. Harry nodded, but gaped when Draco stole his bacon.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get for stealing my blankets this morning. Plus Pansy isn’t around from me to steal from.” replied Draco poshly, and they all laughed. Simon caught Draco’s eye a few minutes later and smiled at him, and Draco smiled back almost instinctively. Simon was very attractive, after all. Calm down, Draco scolded himself. You already have one crush, don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Ready?” Simon asked, and Draco blinked.

“Oh, yeah. Come on Daphne. Bye, you two,” he said over his shoulder to Harry and Camille, the latter waving indulgently while Harry just grinned at him. Draco turned his head   
forward and blushed a little. Harry did have a wonderful smile.

Ten minutes later they were in their first class, and the teacher gave Draco and Daphne their schedules, along with Padma Patil and Sue Li, who had also elected to take the Healer program.

“So how do the programs work with the schedules?” whispered Draco to Simon, as more students filed into the bright classroom.

“We all have core classes, but our two electives all have something to do with our programs. This class is Healing Magic, and we’ll be studying healing spells, potions, things like that, as well as practicing and making them. The other class we’ll have is History and Study of Healing, where we’ll study past cases and sicknesses, things like that, and occasionally we’ll go intern at the hospital nearby.” explained Simon, and Draco nodded thoughtfully.

“The classes aren’t in french, are they?” Daphne whispered, with a worried expression, and Simon chuckled.

“No, because we have students from other places like Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, Belgium, and more, so we offer a French language class but we all speak English in classes, since that’s what most people know.” replied Simon with a smile.

“Good morning, and welcome to our four exchange students!” announced the professor. “Today we will be reviewing and practicing the Bandaging Charm, used to bandage and splint things such as broken bones. Now, this charm is a basic but useful....” They began taking notes on the charm, and Draco found he was actually interested about the subject. 

“Alright,” the professor announced ten minutes later. “The spell is Ferula, with a spiral and flick, as such-” he demonstrated, and the class copied him. “-now, practice on each other’s legs or arms.”

Daphne turned to Draco. “You go first?” she offered, and Draco nodded.

“Ferula,” he said, with the wand motion, and a splint and bandages appeared, busily arranging themselves around Daphne’s leg. Draco grinned at the result.

“Very good, Mr. Malfoy.” The professor gave him an approving nod and vanished the bandages and splint from Daphne’s leg before moving on.

“Ferula,” repeated Daphne, but nothing happened. She frowned.

“Spiral and flick,” instructed Draco. “I think you did it the other way around.” She nodded, and tried again. This time it worked, and she smiled in delight, Draco mirroring her grin. This was something he could do, do and enjoy, and he was glad for it.

….

Harry followed Amelie to a spacious classroom. It must be at the top of the school, he thought, because there were skylights on the ceilings, making the room bright and airy.

“Do you want to be a teacher after you graduate?” asked Amelie as they sat down. She seemed unfazed to be with Harry Potter, something Harry appreciated.

“That’s the thing I could see myself doing, yeah.” he replied. Amelie was pretty nice. “I taught a sort of club in my fifth year, instructed a bunch of other students in Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, because our teacher in that year was absolute rubbish.” She laughed.

“That sounds cool.” she said. “This program is pretty lax, really. We take turns instructing the class, with the professor looking on, and every week we go and spend the class at a nearby local magic school for younger kids, and act as teacher’s assistants and things like that. It’s not hard, but it’s good practice.”

“Sounds good.” responded Harry, adjusting his glasses. “It’s really interesting, seeing how different our schools are.”

“Yes, I remember when Fleur and Madam Maxime left with a group of students for the Triwizard Tournament. I was only in third year, but I remember wanting to go so badly and visit another school. Although I do like our uniforms better.” Amelie smoothed her skirt and Harry smiled.

“Yeah, the uniforms here are definitely a little neater. The whole school is, honestly.” Amelie chuckled.

“You have houses, right? How does that work?” she inquired.

“We have a magical hat called the Sorting Hat, and every year each first year puts on the hat, and it kind of magically digs around in your brain- not literally- but it senses your dominant traits and puts you in the House that matches. I’m in Gryffindor, it’s known for bravery, courage, chivalry, things like that.”

“That’s really interesting- but I hope no one has lice,” Amelie quipped, and they laughed.

The class went by fairly quickly, and as Amelie had described they each took turns instructing the class on a random subject, and at the end they took a pop quiz to determine how much they’d comprehended from each mini-lesson. Harry found it vastly different from his normal classes, but interesting and engaging. When it came to his five minutes, he set up something similar to the DA, demonstrating the Shielding Charm and then having the class practice, walking around and offering pointers and tips. Everyone seemed to enjoy it.

When their first class was over, Harry followed Amelie to their Transfiguration class. He spotted Ernie and Micheal sitting with their own guides, but not Draco or Daphne. Harry sat back with a small pang of disappointment; he hoped he’d have at least some classes with them. But there were still classes he hadn’t been to.

The Transfiguration class was relatively similar to the Hogwarts one; they were still working on human transfiguration, but Harry perked up with interest when the teacher mentioned Animagus’s.

“As you all know what an Animagus is, I don’t need to explain it. But there will be an extracurricular after classes every Wednesday for those who would like to try for their Animagus form. If you reach it, however, just remember it’s the law that you must register. The group will be held in this classroom. Now…”

“That sounds really cool,” Amelie whispered to him. “I’ve never seen an Animagus.”

“My Transfiguration teacher was one- her form was a cat. And my godfather’s was a black dog. My dad’s was a stag, like my Patronus.” replied Harry.

“Wow. My Patronus is a fox. Apparently we’ll be working on them later in Defense, I’m glad I already know how to do mine. Are you going to this club?”

“Yeah, I think I will.” whispered Harry. “You?” Amelie smiled at him, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

“Me too.” she responded.

Harry and Amelie went down to the dining hall for lunch twenty minutes later. Harry could see Camille, Simon, Draco, and Daphne all sitting nearby, and he and Amelie strolled   
over to join them.

“Hey- how were classes?” Harry asked, and Draco grinned.

“Pretty good. Had a Healer class and then Charms.”

“Draco’s really good at the Healer stuff,” Daphne said, leaning over him. Draco flushed. “He did all the spells we learned perfectly, first try.” Simon nodded agreement.

“How were your classes?” Draco replied, pushing Daphne off of him.

“Brilliant. There’s an Animagus club that me and Amelie are going to try.” Harry responded.

“That sounds neat. I’ve always wondered what my Animagus form would be,” Draco mused.

“You should come with us, all of you this Wednesday,” invited Amelie. Harry nodded agreement.

“Yeah, alright.” Draco said, and Daphne nodded enthusiastically.

“Sounds fun,” Simon replied.

“Camille?”

“It sounds lovely, but I have my Alchemy club on Wednesday.” She pulled a regretful face. “But hey- you guys up for going out soon?”

“Hell yeah.” enthused Amelie. “Riley’s?” she continued, and Camille and Simon agreed eagerly.

“Wait, what’s Riley’s?” asked Harry, and he saw his own slightly confused expression mirrored on the two Slytherin’s.

“A dance club. It’s so much fun to get dressed up and go dance, and they have great nachos too.” Simon said. “Last time we went Camille got rip-roaring drunk and-” Camille smacked him before he could finish the sentence.

“Va te faire foudre!” she exclaimed, and Simon laughed. Harry and Daphne snickered- he didn’t know what she had said, but it wasn’t that difficult to guess. “The point is,” she continued. “It’s a fun place to go out for a night on the town, even though it doesn’t open for three and a half weeks. You simply must join us when it does.”

“I don’t dance,” remarked Draco, a slightly apprehensive look on his face.

“As soon as it opens you do,” announced Camille, and Draco sighed.

“Can we go shopping first? I didn’t bring any good clothes for this,” he said.

“Me either,” piped Harry. Not that he would know what to wear to a club.

“Don’t worry, I’ll style you.” Camille waved her hand, and Draco blinked. Harry snorted at the expression on his face.

“And I’ll help you, Harry.” Amelie nodded decisively. “You would look amazing in contacts and eyeliner.” Now it was Harry’s turn to blink in surprise, and Daphne clapped her hands.

“Merlin, yes. I want to be there for that.”

“...Ok, fine,” sighed Harry. He could tell there was no getting out of this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love! Just a note: I don't speak french so my apologies if the french phrases are not entirely correct.

Four weeks fly by, and the weather is bitterly cold. Draco’s spending all of his time with Harry, Daphne, Camille, Simon, and Amelie, and loving every second of it.

He’s gotten closer with the three Beauxbatons students, and Harry as well. Some nights they stay up late, talking to each other in the dark, laughing over shared memories. Every day Draco fell a little more in love with Harry. With his smile, his bright eyes, his funny comments, his enthusiasm. Every brush of their hands or shoulders is like a warm spark, and Draco has found himself always making excuses to sit next to him, talk to him, make him smile, laugh.

Another thing Draco’s come to love is the Healer program. The first time they interned at the nearby magical hospital, he was a hesitant mess of nerves. But now with three trips down, he’s looking forward to the next one, and enjoyed all of his classes. Enjoyed learning new spells, brewing new potions, even studying past cases and remedies. It warmed him up from the inside that learning all of this could help people, could save lives. Make a difference in the best way.

Draco’s established a routine now. Woken up by Harry, going down to breakfast, where he sat next to Harry, classes. Lunch, also sitting next to Harry, and more classes. The Animagus club on Wednesday’s, where they study the process, but haven’t attempted anything yet, to some impatience. Hanging out with his friends, then dinner. Then late night talks with Harry before falling asleep. Every so often the two will have a Seeker’s Game, and Draco’s pleased that he’s won as much as Harry has.

Draco’s lying awake, captivated by the bright moonlight streaming in from the window. He does this more than he should, even though he isn’t tired. Draco liked listening to Harry’s soft breathing, watching the moon and the trees make shadow patterns on the wall. It calmed him.

“No…” Draco turned his head at the quiet murmur. “Don’t kill him...please don’t kill him…” It broke Draco’s heart to hear the small, broken voice that’s coming out of Harry, and he hastened to get up.

He walked over to Harry’s bed. “Harry?” he whispered. The other boy’s brows are furrowed slightly, and a sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead.

“No…” Harry let out a slight sob and Draco shook his shoulder gently.

“Harry, wake up.” he said, but when the other boy doesn’t stir he does it again. “Harry.” Finally Harry’s eyes shoot open, and he took great, shuddering breaths. Draco retreated back to his own bed and let Harry have some space. “Nightmare?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. I must’ve forgotten to take my dose.” came a soft reply. Draco glanced toward the bedside table. Sure enough, the bottle of Dreamless Sleep sat untouched, no cup nearby.  
“Want to talk about it?” Draco said.

“I thought they might’ve stopped by now.” Harry admitted. “With the potion in use for so long. But it was still the same dream.” Draco lay back down and listened, giving Harry all the time he wanted to talk. “I always see the dead. Either they’re dying again, or I am. And he’s always there, at some point.” Draco didn’t ask for the explanation of the ‘he’ that Harry spoke of; he knew Harry was talking about Voldemort. “When you have nightmares...what do you see?” Draco blinked at the question. “You don’t have to tell me, sorry-”

Draco cut Harry off. “No, it’s alright. I see mainly the same things you do. The dead. Him. What I did. I started taking the potion over the summer.” he replied quietly. Draco can hear the rustle of the fall leaves outside, and he saw the moonlight glint off of Harry’s glasses on his bedside table.

“Oh. Thanks for telling me. About the potion too, last month.” came Harry’s voice after a pause. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I was awake already.” said Draco, tucking his hands behind his head.

“Do you stay up like this all the time?”

“...yes.” he admitted.

“If you slept more, I wouldn’t have to wake you up in the morning.” Draco smiled at that.

“Yeah.”

“But you won’t sleep more, will you?” asked Harry dryly.

“Probably not.” Draco heard Harry chuckle.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

“Night Harry.”

The next morning, Draco awoke to Harry’s prodding his shoulder and he smiled sleepily. They went down to the breakfast l, where an owl landed gracefully in front of them, a letter clutched in its beak.

“Oh, Ron and Hermione wrote back,” said Draco, taking the letter. They’d borrowed Camille’s owl to send a joint letter, as promised, to their two friends back at Hogwarts. Draco had also done a letter with Daphne, to Pansy and Blaise. Harry leaned closer to him to peruse the letter that Draco had opened, and Draco’s heart fluttered. He cleared his throat and held the parchment open so they both could see.

_Dear Harry and Draco,_

_Beauxbatons sounds lovely! I’m so glad the both of you are enjoying your classes and programs. The Animagus club sounds fascinating, you must tell me more about that. Dean and Neville and Hagrid say hi, by the way. Everything’s much the same here. It’s odd without you two, though._

_Ron says I should tell you that Lavender is dating Seamus. It is rather funny. They get into a spat almost every day now.  
We visited Hogsmeade last weekend and attached some sweets for you. Yes, Draco, we did get Chocolate Frogs for you. The Zonko’s outlet was bought by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes! So we got to see George briefly, as he was there to make sure the first few days ran smoothly. Gryffindor and Slytherin had their first game and Gryffindor won, 190-100._

_Miss you two a lot, write back soon!_

_Love, Hermione (and Ron)_

“Gryffindor won?” exclaimed Draco indignantly. “Rubbish.”

“Well of course we won, we always win.” said Harry smugly. Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing the bag of sweets.

“I beat you just yesterday, Potty.” Draco retorted. It had been a close Seeker’s game; they’d both been half-frozen by the time Draco had grabbed the Snitch, Harry’s hand just behind his. “Shall we go up to Defense, then?” he continued airily when Harry muttered something under his breath.

“Yeah, alright.” responded Harry, and the two walked up to the Defense class that they shared, along with Potions.

….

“Welcome class. We will be having winter exams in December, so you want to make sure you’ve studied everything before then. Today we’ll continuing our work on Patronuses, or the Expecto Patronum Charm, that repels dementors. How many of you can produce a Patronus already?”

Harry put his hand up; as did Amelie and a few other people in the class. Draco’s hand stayed down next to him.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Let’s see.. Mr. Potter, would you like to demonstrate for us?”

“Er- okay.” replied Harry, standing up and nervously swiping a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and raised his wand, concentrating intensely on a memory of Hermione, Ron, and Draco from Hogwarts, just one of the times they’d sat around and talked. “Expecto Patronum!” The silvery stag erupted from the end of his wand, and Harry felt his wand thrum in his hand as the stag cantered once around the room before Harry let it dissolve.

“Well done! Thank you for the demonstration.” said the teacher warmly, and a few people clapped. Harry smiled self-consciously and sat back down quickly next to Draco, who had a slightly wistful look on his face.

“That was really good,” commented Draco.

“Thanks.” replied Harry, still a little flushed from the attention. “How’s yours coming?” he asked, as the teacher directed the class to split up into pairs and practice the charm.  
Draco shrugged casually, with a blank face, but Harry could tell he was frustrated. “Still nothing,” he sighed. “It just doesn’t work.”

“When I first learned in third year, it took me a lot of time. I kept passing out.” said Harry, trying to console the other boy. He was rewarded with a small smile.

“Ah, yes. You did faint a lot that year.” Draco quipped, and Harry shook his head with a smile. “But I don’t know what it is that’s not making it work. It’s-” he exhaled. “-frustrating.”

“What are you thinking of?” asked Harry quietly.

“I can’t settle on any one memory. I’ve tried a few. Stargazing with my mother when I was little, the first time I rode a broom. Things like that.” explained Draco, twirling his wand between his fingers. Harry smiled reminiscently. “What?”

“When Lupin taught me I thought of that too, the first time I rode a broom. But he told me that wasn’t a strong enough memory. It ended up being just- not a memory, but a general feeling, from when I was super young and with my parents.” replied Harry, slightly gently, trying not to annoy Draco with the information that his chosen memories might not be strong enough.

The blond frowned. “Those are the strongest memories I have, though.” Harry felt a pang of sympathy, but didn’t let it show, as he knew that wasn’t something Draco would appreciate. Does he have a happy memory that’s strong enough?

“I could work with you on it, if you want some extra practice,” offered Harry. Draco shot him a tentative smile.

“Alright. Thanks, Harry.” he replied.

That night, Harry marveled that they had already spent around a month at Beauxbatons. He’d enjoyed every single second of it, and his new friendships, as well as getting closer with Draco and even Daphne.

“You up for practicing tonight?” Harry nudged Draco, who was sitting next to him. “And then we can write back to Hermione and Ron.”

“Yeah, alright.” agreed Draco, reaching for a roll. “Pass the butter?” Harry did, and tuned in to Daphne and Camille’s conversation on the other side of him when Simon started talking in French to Draco and Amelie.

“...Riley’s opens this weekend, we should definitely go,” announced Camille, and Harry groaned, while Simon and Amelie cheered on his other side.

“I forgot about that.” Harry said. Daphne snickered.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Harry. It’ll be wonderful. Amelie and Camille know what they’re doing, make-up wise.” Harry shook his head in disbelief.

“I thought you said eyeliner,” he pointed out.

“Eyeliner is makeup, Harry.” said Draco, sniggering.

“Yeah, no shit, you prat.” Harry replied, jokingly shoving him. Draco shoved back. “I just meant, like, versus a full face of makeup.”

“Pansy did it to me once. I liked it.” mused Draco. “Alright Camille, as long as I look good.” he announced, and Camille smiled mischievously.

“Don’t worry, you will.” she said. “So will Harry, when Amelie’s done.” Harry sighed and relented.

“Fine, fine.”

“Wonderful! So this weekend.” Amelie said. “Now, Draco, what’s this Daphne told me today, about a certain kiss in sixth year?” Harry looked at him curiously, as did the others.   
Draco flushed deeply and Daphne snickered.

“Nothing,” protested the blond.

“He was making out with this boy named Theodore Nott in the Slytherin common room when all of Slytherin house walked in on them after dinner.” continued Daphne, raising her eyebrows. Draco leaned over the table and cuffed the back of her head, to everyone’s sniggers.

“I told you one time, and now you bring it up all the time,” he huffed.

Harry blinked. Nott...so Draco was gay? Or bi? He hadn’t known that. He’d always thought Draco was straight, because he’d dated Pansy. But he obviously wasn’t an expert on Draco’s love life.

They’d never talked about anything like this before, sexuality or liking people. Harry supposed he was just a little surprised, only because it was the first mention of it. Otherwise it didn’t matter much to him, in the sense that it didn’t change who Draco was. He was still the same Draco Harry knew.

“What about you, Harry?”

“Er-what?” Harry shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Any embarrassing stories?” Amelie grinned at him. He smiled ruefully.

“Not really, no.” he admitted. Obviously when he’d been lost in his head they’d gone around and shared or something. Draco caught his eye and tipped his head toward the entrance, mouthing _practice_? Harry nodded back, and the two of them stood up.

“Harry and I are going to go a bit early, to practice Patronuses.” announced Draco, and they said their goodbyes and left the dining hall. “Should we go get coats?”

“It’ll be dark soon, and our room is kind of far. Maybe skip the coats for one night.” replied Harry regretfully. It was getting colder every day, although there had been no sign of snow yet. Draco frowned.

“Yeah, alright.” he responded amicably, and they walked in an easy silence toward one of the doors that would let them out into the gardens. Harry caught Draco eyeing him a couple of times.

“What is it?” he asked. Draco rubbed the back of his neck as they stepped outside.

“Sorry.” he said sheepishly.

“Is this about the you being gay thing?” prodded Harry tentatively.

“I...guess so. I just remembered you didn’t know before, and it was kind of sprung on you.” said Draco, scuffing his shoes against the cobblestone. Harry smiled, shaking his head.

“That’s classic you, you know. Making your moment about someone else.” He nudged Draco with his shoulder. “And it doesn’t matter to me if you like guys or girls. You’re still one of my best friends.” Draco had his head turned away, but Harry saw his lips curve up into a smile.

….

“Alright. Thanks, Harry.” Draco replied softly. A warm feeling was bubbling up inside of him at being called one of Harry’s best friends, (Draco shoved down the other part of him that complained about how he wasn’t more to Harry) and as they finally found a place among the gardens to practice Draco had to clamp his lips together to stop smiling.

“So-Patronuses.” began Harry briskly. “You know the movement, the incantation. Try a different memory. Search for the strongest one you have. It doesn’t even have to be happy, really, it just has to have strong positive emotions. Tell me when you have one.” 

Draco explored his memories, speeding past all the negative ones, examining each good memory with a critical eye. What he’d been choosing before obviously hadn’t been strong enough. Draco thought he could tell why; the happy feeling he’d had had always been interlaced with some stress or worry- even when he’d been stargazing with his mother when he was younger, he’d been worried that his father would get mad at him for ruining his clothes. 

Or even with Theo, in sixth year, those stolen happy moments were greatly overshadowed by the fear of what he’d been asked to do that year. Things like that.

Draco frowned slightly. So many of his memories were like that. Or they weren’t truly happy, but the kind of happy he had used to delight in from bullying others, or something like that. Did he have any memories that would work for this?

Draco finally decided to revisit his more recent memories, deciding they were his happiest. Because he’d been with friends, real friends, not cronies or people he barely tolerated.

“I have one.” Draco announced quietly. He was thinking of one of the days he, Hermione, and Harry had been in the library. Harry nodded.

“Go ahead, then. You need to think only of the memory, let it fill you up. Remember vividly how you felt.” he instructed, and Draco raised his wand.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said clearly, and felt a sense of wonder as a stream of silvery, translucent light shot out of his wand. He kept the spell going, trying to see if it would take the form of a Patronus, but it remained only a wisp of light. Draco lowered his wand, suddenly tired.

“That was a good first try,” exclaimed Harry, striding over.

“It wasn’t a real Patronus, though.” Draco sighed. It had taken much more energy than he’d expected, and only for that? He was a little disappointed in himself.

“True. But it’s better than what you had before.”

“Nothing happened before.”

“Exactly. You’ve had progress.” said Harry with a grin, and Draco felt his lips curve up into an answering grin.

They stayed out a bit longer, letting Draco practice, but he wasn’t able to get beyond that first stage. By the time they finally went inside, they were both shivering from the cold.

“I call dibs on showering first.” commented Harry as they trekked down their dorm hallway. “I’m bloody freezing. And you always take forever.”

Draco smirked. “Alright.” he said, opening the door and stepping inside. “Potter, you left the window open all day?” he continued indignantly.

“Sorry,” came Harry’s voice from the bathroom. “I had to wake you up and I forgot to close it.”

“Why was it open in the first place?” asked Draco, taking off his shoes.

“Because I felt like it,” retorted Harry, and Draco chuckled.

An hour later they were both asleep, Draco for once having no trouble slipping into unconsciousness.

He was awoken by a violent sneeze from Harry the next morning, and blearily pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Hey.” said Harry, and sneezed again. “I think I have a cold from last night. Sorry.” He was a slightly pitiful sight to behold, miserably huddled in his blanket, his nose reddish.

Draco grimaced, feeling a little guilty. “Sorry I dragged you outside for so long.”

“No, it’s fine,” replied Harry with a slight smile.

“I’ll be right back,” said Draco. He pointed at Harry. “Stay there.”

Harry rolled his eyes with a slight smile. “Sure, Healer Draco.” Draco raised his eyebrows but left.

First he went down to the dining hall, where Draco grabbed a pot of tea and Harry’s favorite breakfast- toast with marmalade and scrambled eggs- before dropping them off back with Harry.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “I could’ve gotten this myself, though.” Draco decided to ignore that last bit.

“I’ll go get you some Pepper-Up. Drink the tea, it’ll help.” ordered Draco, and Harry blinked at him before smiling bemusedly.

“Brilliant.” he replied, settling into his blanket-cave. “I should get sick more often, if it means Draco Malfoy fetches me breakfast.” Draco chuckled but left before Harry saw the flush on his cheeks.

Draco strolled down to the student Potion’s room, which was one thing at Beauxbatons he liked that was not at Hogwarts. It was a large room, completely stocked with ingredients and textbooks, specifically for students to practice brewing. No one else was there at the moment, as it was a Friday morning on a day with no classes and everyone else was probably in bed or eating breakfast. Draco began collecting ingredients for a Pepper-Up potion, something he knew by heart as it was so simple, and was quick and easy to brew.

He kindled a fire under his pewter cauldron and set to work. Thirty minutes later, Draco smiled down at the smoothly bubbling potion. It was perfect, of course. Potions was something he loved as much as he now did Healing magic. He scooped some into a phial and vanished the rest, pausing only to clean up his workspace before going back up to his dorm.

“There you go.” Draco tossed the phial to Harry, who caught it with the skill of a Seeker.

“Thanks,” he said, downing the contents and shaking his head a little as the potion began to take effect. “How’d you make it taste good? The ones from the infirmary at Hogwarts always taste gross.”

“Mint sprigs. I add them to everything I brew, because the only effects it can have on any potion is to make it taste good or to counterbalance the side effects. For instance,” continued Draco, nodding at the potion Harry held, “no steam will come out of your ears.”

“Huh.” Harry held up the phial to the light to peruse the blue contents. “I wish I’d known that second year. Polyjuice tastes absolutely awful.”

“Technically Snape taught us that in first year, Harry.” said Draco with a smirk. “And why were you drinking Polyjuice in second year?” he asked curiously.

….

Harry chuckled at the memory. Draco’s Pepper-Up was making him feel loads better, thankfully. He’d be fine in a few minutes.

“Well,” began Harry. “We-that is to say, me and Ron and Hermione- thought you might be the Heir of Slytherin, so Hermione brewed Polyjuice Potion and Ron and I turned into Crabbe and Goyle for a night. Hermione accidentally used the hair of Millicent’s cat, that’s why she couldn’t join us.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. Draco stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“So that’s why they- well, you- were acting so weird that one night.” Draco exclaimed. “They came in fifteen minutes later saying they last thing they remembered was eating some sweet and then they woke up stuffed in a broom closet. I thought they’d gone round the twist.”

Harry snickered. “Yes, well, we knocked them out with a Sleeping Draught in two sweets and then put them in said closet.” Draco snorted, shaking his head.

“All that work and I wasn’t even the Heir,” Draco commented. “What a shame.” Harry smiled, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes.

“Remember in first year, when you challenged me to that midnight duel?” he asked suddenly, laying back in his bed with his hands behind his head. He heard Draco chuckle.

“And then I set Filch on you? Yeah. I remember being mad that you somehow evaded being caught. You did that a lot, evading blame.” replied Draco. Harry glanced over at him   
with a small smirk.

“Invisibility Cloak, remember? It’s very useful.” Harry sat up and faced Draco, who grinned at his comment. Harry smiled back, and they looked at each other for a moment, before Draco swept his gaze away from Harry’s, off to the side. Harry cleared his throat, dismissing the slightly lost feeling, and rummaged in his trunk for his Cloak. He drew the silvery fabric out, and Draco watched.

“It was my dad’s, a sort of family heirloom, I guess. But he lent it to Dumbledore before they died, and in first year Dumbledore gave it to me for Christmas, anonymously.” explained Harry. He stood up and drew the Cloak over himself, and Draco made a slightly awed noise.

“I’ve never heard of a Cloak working for that long,” he said, standing up and peering at where Harry was. Harry took it off and offered it to him, and Draco took it hesitantly, his fingers running over the smooth fabric. “Wow.” He gave it back to Harry, who tucked it away in his trunk.

“Speaking of other things you didn’t know, Hagrid still has Buckbeak,” announced Harry with a grin, and Draco’s mouth dropped open. Harry chuckled at the look on the other boy’s face.

“Seriously?” Draco said indignantly. “That bloody chicken slashed my arm open, you know!”

“I know, I was there.” Harry reminded him. “And Madam Pomfrey fixed it in about two seconds, you prat. If anything he slashed your pride.” Draco huffed, but there was a gleam of amusement in his grey eyes.

“Shall we go down to lunch, then?” Draco said poshly, and Harry chuckled.

“You always talk so fancy.”

“It’s called being eloquent, you tosser.” retorted Draco.

“I never said it was a bad thing. I like your eloquent-ness.” Harry said, smirking, then turned to put his shoes on.

“Si seulement vous saviez à quel point vos compliments me rendent heureux.” whispered Draco quietly from behind him, almost absentmindedly. Harry barely comprehended it; the quiet murmur was like a song.

“Draco, you know I can’t speak French.” complained Harry, looking over his shoulder. Draco blushed, his body turned away from Harry, facing the window.

“I was talking to myself, if you must know.” retorted the blond, but his voice was a bit high, as Harry noticed it always was when Draco was embarrassed. Harry looked at him curiously before turning back around. Draco had done this a few times before, speaking in French in a quiet voice when he thought Harry couldn’t hear him. It was curious. Maybe it was worth learning French, thought Harry, just to know what Draco said to himself that he apparently didn’t want Harry to hear.

They left their dorm and went down to lunch, falling back into their bickering habits on the way there, quarreling over Quidditch teams.

“There you two are,” exclaimed Amelie. “Why weren’t you at breakfast?”

“I got a cold from practicing Patronuses with this one-” Harry jerked his head at Draco- “last night, and he insisted he bring me breakfast and brew me Pepper-Up.” Harry said it like he was annoyed, but gave Draco a smile to let him know he was joking. Usually Draco was good at picking up that sort of thing on his own, but every now and then he was oblivious and got horribly offended. Draco smirked back as they sat down amongst their friends.

“Why didn’t you just go grab him some from the infirmary?” asked Daphne curiously, staring at Draco. Harry watched him too; if he was honest he’d forgotten that was an option, but it was technically the more rational one.

Draco flushed again. “Those ones aren’t very good, and I needed the practice anyway,” he mumbled, but Harry noticed Daphne still scrutinizing the blond with interest.

“Draco’s potions are better anyway,” commented Harry, trying to bring some of the attention off of the flustered blond. “He makes it so steam doesn’t come out of my ears, I didn’t mind waiting a bit longer if I got that.” He admitted to himself that he, like Daphne, was still curious, but decided to save his dormmate from her scrutinizing. Camille leaned over the table.

“How did you do that? Counter the effects?” she asked, and Draco immediately began explaining to her, seemingly glad to get away from the previous topic. Harry glanced at Daphne, and saw that she was looking at him, too.

“He’s acting weird today,” commented Daphne quietly, so only Harry could hear her.

“It was nice of him, though. He’s a good friend. Even if he randomly talks in French when he knows I can’t understand him.” replied Harry with amusement, shrugging, and he saw her blink rapidly, like she’d realized something. “What?”

“Oh- nothing. I’ve just remembered an essay that’s due next week that I need to start on,” she answered with a smile, which Harry returned. But his thoughts were racing. She was keeping something from him, so was Draco. But what was it, and why?


	11. Chapter 11

“...Hope you had a good Thanksgiving, Draco and Harry.” Draco set down the letter that he’d been penning to Hermione and Ron, on Harry’s insistence that Draco’s handwriting was better than his. Harry nodded slowly.

“Yeah, that’s good. I’ll send it off this weekend.” Harry replied, and Draco rolled his eyes, flopping back onto his bed.

“No shit. I wrote two freaking pages, I’m not sending it off as well.” Draco commented, catching the pillow Harry chucked at him and tucking it behind his head.

“Yeah, yeah. When did they say they’d come over?”

Draco frowned. “Seven, I think. It’s almost time.”

It was Saturday, and that night they’d made plans to go out to a nearby town, to a dance club that their Beauxbatons friends adored, for some reason. Draco was looking forward to it, actually. They’d missed the first Hogsmeade trip by leaving for Beauxbatons, so it would be nice to go out with friends. Even if it was to a dance club. Draco wrinkled his nose before rolling over in his bed to face the wall, arms around the pillow.

He’d been slipping up more and more this past week, what with the French that Harry kept overhearing, being caught staring at Harry, and the whole Pepper-Up mess. It was getting harder to keep his feelings from showing, especially since Draco was almost one hundred percent sure that Daphne, at least, had noticed.

Draco sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut. Tonight would be a much-needed distraction, then. A knock came on the door and Draco sat up, hearing the muffled voices of the girls. Harry jumped up and let them in, and Camille, Amelie, and Daphne streamed in, giggling at some joke. Simon strolled in after them, his arms full of makeup bags, and Draco quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you carrying that for them?” he asked, and Simon smiled.

“They promised to do my makeup as well, so this isn’t that bad of a price.” he replied, and Draco shook his head with a grin. Daphne and Camille flounced over to his and sat down on either side of him, while Amelie and Simon joined Harry.

“Here we go,” sighed the Gryffindor, letting Amelie lead him into the bathroom. Draco snickered. “Oh shut up, Draco.” came Harry’s voice, but Draco heard the laugh in his voice.

“Alright. I told Amelie she could take the bathroom, but we’ll just do yours out here.” announced Camille, unpacking various things.

“I like yours,” commented Draco. Camille had long, sharp swoops of eyeliner, and her eyelids and lips were glittery. She smiled mischievously.

“Merci. Now,” she continued, beginning to smooth something on his face with a soft brush. “Anything specific you want?”

“Not really.” Draco shrugged. “Just make me look hotter than Harry.” Camille and Daphne laughed.

“Can I do his eyeliner?” piped Daphne, and Camille nodded.

“Oui, you are good at that. She did mine,” she added to Draco, who nodded. A few minutes later Camille took a break and joined the other three in the bathroom, where she exclaimed in delight at Harry. Daphne took her place in front of Draco.

“Alright. Close your eyes.” she said quietly, and Draco obliged, feeling the light sensation of the eyeliner pen. “You like him, don’t you?” continued Daphne in a whisper, and Draco opened his other eye to look at her. Fuck, she had noticed.

“Is that why you planned this little alone time moment?” muttered Draco.

“Close your other eye, I have to start that one. And yes. Answer the question.” she ordered in a soft voice. Draco closed his eyes again and felt her start on the other eye.   
Something was twisting uncomfortably in his stomach and he exhaled. No use hiding it from her.

“Yes. I like him.” Draco replied in a whisper.

“Does he like you?” Daphne finished the eyeliner, and Draco felt a lump in his throat as he chuckled, trying to be nonchalant, to seem like that question wasn’t one he pondered night and day.

“Doubt it.” he replied. Daphne took his hand, and he turned his head away from her knowing eyes. “Shut up.”

She smiled. “Be careful.” Daphne whispered, and Draco chewed his lip absentmindedly.

“Too late for that,” he replied in a monotone, and Daphne gave him a quick hug and a sisterly peck on the forehead.

“Camille, you can come finish.” Daphne called, and Draco sat on the bed, feeling very much like the bedazzled outside of him didn’t fit the lonely soul he felt like right now.

“Alright. Ooo, nice job Daphne.” Camille said with admiration as she rejoined them. She powdered Draco’s face a bit more, before stepping back with a satisfied noise. “Done.”  
Draco made a huge effort and smiled at her. “Thanks, Camille. Daphne.”

“Come look in the mirror, Draco,” exclaimed Camille, taking his hand and drawing him up off of the bed. He let her, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. Harry was in there. Could Draco even trust himself next to him, not to fuck anything up? He swallowed, but let himself be led into the cramped bathroom, looked up into the mirror.

The first thing he noticed was that he was glowing. His skin was glowing, and glittery, and his eyes were outlined in gold.

The second thing he noticed was Harry’s reflection in the mirror, and it took his breath away.

Harry looked...beautiful. They’d done something to make his green eyes pop, and the overall effect was mesmerizing. The lack of glasses helped, too.

Draco smiled at the other boy in the mirror. “You see? It’s not bad.” he said casually, like butterflies weren’t battering his ribcage.

Harry grimaced. “I guess. Yeah. I just have the urge to scratch. These contacts are weird.” The two boys locked eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t you dare, either of you. You both look amazing.” declared Amelie from behind them, and Draco flushed. It was like he couldn’t look away from Harry. “Now we just have to do Simon and we’ll be ready to go.”

“Alright you two, clear out while we do Simon.” commanded Camille, and Draco walked out of the bathroom, feeling like he was in a dream. Floating, but plummeting at the same time. He sat down on his bed, and Harry sat down next to him. Draco could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“So, dancing.” said Harry. “I really can’t dance.” Harry smiled crookedly at Draco, who felt a wave of fondness for him.

“Yeah, me either. Unless you count ballroom dancing, but I don’t think waltzing is something you do at a club. I’m not very good at that, either.” said Draco. Harry laughed.

“We’ll see how this goes.” Draco smiled dryly.

“Yeah.” he responded. See if I can keep my shit together just a little bit longer.

….

Twenty minutes later, Harry and his friends were in a carriage, going to one of the nearby Wizarding villages. The chatter inside the small carriage was loud and excited, and that mood was starting to infect Harry as well. He didn’t want to dance, but it could still be a fun time.

Soon they tumbled out at the village, which was bedecked with strands of lights. The air was cold, and whipped against Harry’s face.

“They always decorate for the holiday season with lights.” explained Amelie as they followed Camille and Simon to Riley’s.

“It’s very pretty.” commented Harry. “And cold.” Amelie laughed.

“Yeah, that too. I always forget my jacket.” She pulled a face, and Harry shrugged his off.

“Here, you can take mine.” he offered, and she smiled.

“No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want you to be cold on my sake.”

“No, really.” Harry gave it to her and she pulled it on.

“Thanks, Harry.” Amelie said gratefully, snuggling into the jacket. Harry looped his arm through hers and pulled her along.

“Come on, we’re falling behind.” he exclaimed, and the two of them ran toward where Draco was holding the door for them. “Thanks, Draco.” said Harry, out of breath as they entered the building.

“Sure.” muttered Draco, and disappeared into the crowd. Harry frowned after him, but Amelie tugged him over to where Camille had snagged a table. They weaved through the crowd, a bass beat thrumming through the room. Harry could feel it, and was suddenly glad they were there. He had a urge to go join the knot of people on the dance floor, to be in the middle of everything. He was also relieved to see that his makeup look fit in here, as lots of people had extravagant looks.

“Where’s Draco?” asked Daphne, her brows furrowing.

“He ran off somewhere.” replied Harry. Daphne excused herself and went to go look for him, and Harry almost joined her, but Amelie still had a hold of his hand and tugged him down into a seat. The lights were dim inside the club, and Harry frowned. “Wait, they use electricity here?”

“Yeah, for the sound equipment and the lights.” replied Simon. “I’m going to go grab drinks for everyone.”

“I’ll come with you.” offered Harry, and the two made their way through the crowd. Harry kept an eye out for either missing Slytherin, but didn’t see anything.

“A round of Firewhisky, please.” said Simon, propping his elbows on the bar. Harry snorted. He didn’t have much experience with Firewhisky, all he remembered about it was that it burned going down. But hey, what the hell. It’s one time.

“Exactly,” Simon grinned at him, and Harry realized he must’ve spoken out loud. They took the drinks and threaded through the edge of the crowd back to the table.

“Thanks, you two.” exclaimed Camille, and Harry realized that Daphne and Draco were back at the table, accompanied by someone who looked vaguely familiar but who Harry couldn’t place.

“We found Theo, here isn’t that crazy?” exclaimed Daphne, exchanging a smile with the boy, who Harry now recognized as Theodore Nott, who’d moved to France after the war.

“I was surprised to see you here. I come here often.” said Nott in a smooth voice.

“Nice to meet you, we like this place too.” said Camille, and the other two Beauxbatons students echoed her. “We’ve heard about you from them.” She chuckled.

Harry glanced at Draco in curiosity. Nott was his ex, so Harry wondered what Draco thought of him being here. Apparently not much, because Draco was draining his glass of Firewhisky with a blank expression on his face.

Nott smirked. “All good things, I hope.” he drawled. He caught Harry’s eye. “Hey, Potter.”

“Nott,” replied Harry with a nod. They’d never been on speaking terms, but Harry wasn’t opposed to it, especially now that it looked like Nott was around for the night.

“Daphne’s told us about your sixth year fiasco,” said Simon, grinning. “The whole dinner crowd walking in on you two?” He motioned to Nott, who laughed, and then to Draco, who downed another Firewhisky with an increasingly ill-tempered expression. Harry frowned slightly. Draco was acting weird. Harry had never seen him drink before, but here he was, slamming them back. And usually Draco would’ve shot back at Simon by now for bringing this up yet again, but he wasn’t. Something was definitely bothering the blond.

Harry caught Daphne’s eye, and he saw his own slight worry reflected in her gaze.

“Let’s go dance,” she said, pulling Theo and Camille up. A distraction, for everyone else. Simon and Amelie followed her readily, but Harry stayed behind with Draco, who didn’t seem to notice he was there.

“Draco?” The other boy looked up disinterestedly, a glass dangling from his fingers.

“What?” he asked flatly, and Harry sighed. Draco was in a mood, for some reason.

“What’s up with you?” asked Harry patiently. It was hard, dealing with Draco when he was like this. But Harry didn’t mind so much. He’d had his fair share of bad days.

“I’m fucking dandy.” replied Draco, and Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. So it was one of those nights where Draco was prickly. Brilliant.

“Is this about Nott?” prodded Harry. Draco laughed, a low, husky sound.

“No. I don’t really care about him being here. I’m fine.” And with that Draco stood up and left the table, Harry frowning after him.

If Draco wanted to be alone, or not talked to, Harry would respect that, for the moment. But he still wanted to know what was up with him. Harry sighed, and downed his own Firewhisky, coughing a little at the burn in his throat. So far tonight wasn’t as he’d expected.

A few minutes later Amelie reappeared and dragged him onto the dance floor, which he smiled begrudgingly at, but let her. Harry was still apprehensive about dancing, as he knew he was rubbish at it, so he mostly watched everyone else dance, leaning on a wall. Daphne was dancing with Nott, Simon was spinning Amelie around, and Camille was   
chatting to another Beauxbatons student Harry didn’t know. And Draco, of course, was nowhere to be found.

An hour later, Harry’s head was pounding with a headache from the Firewhisky and the noise and he left to step outside, for the cold air.  
“I’ll be right back,” said Harry loudly over the music, tapping Amelie on the shoulder. She nodded at him, and handed him his jacket. He grinned in thanks and wove his way   
through the throngs of people towards the door.

Someone caught his arm and pulled him out of the crowd.

“What are you- oh, hey Daphne.” said Harry. “What is it?”

“Draco’s been missing for an hour, I’m worried about him.”

“He’s in a bad mood. I think he’s drunk, too.” Harry commented. “I’ll keep an eye out for him, alright? I’m just going to go outside for a little bit to clear my head.” He waved and went outside. It was so much better, the air was fresh and cold, clearing his head. Harry spent a few minutes outside, before heading back inside.

He saw Draco at the bar, finally, and began to walk over to him, but someone else got there first.

….

Draco was in deep shit. He knew that much.

He was drunk, and he never got drunk. But he’d been so fucked up over Harry, and then he’d seen Amelie and Harry together… and his mood had dropped even further. So he’d   
gotten drunk, and then Theo had showed up, and Draco had snapped at Harry, which he felt like shit about.

“Hey, Draco. Can we talk?”

Draco turned around and saw Theo, leaning beside him at the bar. For the past hour he’d been skulking on the outskirts of the club, trying to stay out of people’s way. Also to avoid Harry, and Theo. Harry because he didn’t want to fuck up any more, and Theo because Theo.. Theo was still looking at him like he’d done in sixth year, and Draco didn’t like him like that anymore.

“Yeah.” replied Draco. He was not looking forward to rejecting Theo, not to mention he was way too drunk for this. His head was spinning, and the flashing lights and sounds from the dance floor weren’t helping. Theo began walking towards a hallway, beckoning Draco to follow him, which he reluctantly did, stumbling occasionally. “God, I hate being drunk.” Draco muttered, and Theo chuckled as they stood in the dark hallway, which was blessedly a little quieter than the main room of the club.

“It’s nice to see you again.” said Theo, leaning against the wall. “You look great.”

Draco silently cursed his makeup, however pretty it was.

“What do you want, Theo?” Draco asked, the fuzziness in his head making him blunt, not at all the suave, subtle tone he usually had. He stared at the other boy, his gaze catching on Theo’s inky hair. Remembered it’s softness between his fingers. He tore his gaze away and stared at the floor.

Theo stepped up to him, bracing an arm beside Draco’s head on the wall. There was a slight noise in the hallway, like the scuff of someone’s shoe.

“Can’t you tell what I want?” challenged Theo. Draco rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything Theo was kissing him, pressing him against the wall, his tongue tracing the seam of Draco’s lips. Fucking hell. Draco shoved at him, even as part of him wanted to lean into the kiss, it was so familiar. But no. Draco finally broke away and walked out of Theo’s reach.

“I’m not having a last hurrah hookup, Theo.” Draco said firmly. “I don’t like you like that anymore.” He walked back to the main room without waiting for Theo’s reply.

His head was still spinning, he needed water, something to clear his head. Draco smirked wryly. Why had he ever been looking forward to this? It was one shitshow after another.   
He sat down wearily at the empty table they’d been at and put his head on his hands, sighing.

Daphne appeared out of the crowd and sat down next to him.

“I don’t want to make your night worse,” she said hesitantly, and Draco braced himself for the worst. “But… Harry just told me he saw you kissing Theo. He’s left, back up to the school.”

So it had been Harry that Draco had heard in the hallway. Fucking wonderful. Now I’ve ruined everything, thought Draco woozily.

“He asked to talk to me and then he kissed me. I guess Harry didn’t see the part where I pushed him away and told Theo I didn’t like him.” Draco said flatly. He felt awful. Physically and mentally.

“Draco…” Daphne seemed at a loss for what to say.

“But it doesn’t really matter, anyway.” continued Draco absentmindedly. “It’s not like Harry’s gay, or likes me as anything more than a friend. Not even a friend, after I snapped at him. Merlin, why am I such a dickhead?” Draco groaned and let his head drop back down onto the table. Daphne rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered. Yeah, me too,thought Draco. Sorry for fucking up his own goddamn life.

Half an hour later Draco was back in the carriage with everyone except Harry, who’s absence was one Draco felt greatly. It had started to rain, and Draco thought listlessly that the weather was reflecting his mood.

Merlin, how would he fix this? He’d fucking driven Harry back to the school because he’d been a bitch to one of his closest friends. And for some reason that Draco’s hazy brain couldn’t comprehend, Theo kissing him had been the final straw for Harry. Or something.

Draco groaned softly and leaned his head against the cold window as they trundled up to the school. Everyone in the carriage was quiet, sleepy. Daphne was the only one who knew what had happened to Draco, and Draco wanted to keep it that way. He could feel her eyes on him now; he knew she was worried. He was always making her worried.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured to her.

“Why?” she responded softly.

“I always make you worried. Sorry.” She smiled tenderly at him.

“It’s alright.” she whispered. “You’re my friend.”

“I fucked up tonight.” Draco said. He wiped at his eye, but when he drew his hand away it was smeared with gold. “Fuck.” Daphne pressed her lips together.

“Nice look,” she teased gently. “And it’ll be alright. You two are close, one night won’t ruin that friendship. Trust me.” Draco let himself be soothed by her words, hoping desperately that they were true.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and they all spilled out, heading inside. Draco slowly uncurled and he and Daphne followed, saying good night to the other three as they walked to the exchange student’s dorms. The halls were relatively quiet, it was late. Draco was silent as they stopped in front of the closed door of his room. Daphne squeezed his hand, a comforting gesture that, while appreciated, did nothing to quell his anxiety. His breathing was getting shallow.

“Breathe, Draco. It’ll be fine. Just tell him what you told me.”

“Y-yeah. Right.” said Draco faintly. “I don’t feel good.”

“Just be you.” Daphne kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Draco took a deep breath as she went into her own dorm room. Another breath. Fuck. He opened the door and stepped inside.

….

Harry heard the door creak open and close from where he was lying on his bed, and Draco’s shadowy figure came into the dark room. All the lights were off. He heard Draco’s bed squeak slightly as the blond sat down, and saw the moonlight shine off of the glitter on his skin, his hair.

“Hey,” Draco said hesitantly.

“Hey,” replied Harry.

When he’d seen Theo and Draco go into that hallway, he’d followed them, out of nothing more than curiosity. But then he’d seen Theo make a move on Draco, seen them kissing…

It had made Harry mad, had made him so angry-and he didn't know why. Not because Draco had snapped at him earlier, but something about seeing them kiss had awoken some rage within him. So Harry had left the club early, only stopping to tell Daphne he was leaving. What he had seen in the hallway had slipped out, and he’d fled, leaving Daphne with a shocked expression on her face.

He’d paid another carriage to take him back up to the school, and had been lying on his bed, trying to make sense of everything. Why it affected him so much. Why the images kept flashing in his mind. Draco’s skin, glittering and golden. Nott leaning over Draco. Nott’s hands curled around Draco’s shoulders, how he’d pressed up against him. Draco’s blond hair against Nott’s dark curls.

“Daphne said that you… you saw.” Draco said. “Is.. is that why you left?”

“Not really. The club just wasn’t my kind of place.” Harry lied, channeled his inner Slytherin.

There was a realization he’d come to a couple minutes ago, a remembrance of the same kind of anger. But Harry pushed it down.

“Are you two back together, then?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He heard Draco exhale.

“No.” said Draco firmly, and a pressure Harry hadn’t noticed eased off his chest. “He asked to talk, and then he...well, you saw. But I shoved him off, told him I didn’t like him like that.” There was a pause as Harry digested this, but he didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” continued Draco, his voice soft.

“It’s alright. You’re not the only one who has bad days.” replied Harry, and Draco sighed quietly.

“I have this damn eyeshadow all over my hands.” Draco said, letting out a laugh. Or a sob. Harry couldn’t tell. But he chuckled, knowing that was Draco’s way of asking if things were alright between them.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Harry answered wryly, getting up and fetching a wet towel. He handed it to Draco.

“Thank you.”

“I liked it though.” Harry said suddenly, not totally sure why. Draco looked up at him, and Harry studied his wide grey eyes, still framed with smears of gold.

“I liked yours too.” replied Draco softly, after a pause. They watched each other for a second, and Draco was the first to look away. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Draco.”

Harry rolled over, listening to the rustling of sheets as both of them got comfortable in their respective beds. Harry’s head was spinning with realization after realization. Memory after memory.

He lay awake for awhile, listening to Draco’s soft breathing deepen, for once falling asleep before Harry did. Harry glanced over at him. Draco still had glitter around his eyes, but his face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted.

Harry looked away, an unknown feeling bubbling up inside of him. He had a sneaking suspicion about what was going on with him.

Because this feeling, this anger, possessiveness… this was what he had felt when he’d seen Dean kissing Ginny, two years ago. Except this time...this time it was stronger.

Merlin. Harry exhaled. The knowledge hit him like a train; hard, fast, and all at once.

He liked Draco. Once that fell into place, everything else did too.

He’d never liked another boy before, but now that he thought about it...Harry liked Draco. He liked his sarcastic, witty remarks, his fancy way of talking. His random french phrases, how they sounded like song. How dramatic he was, how fun he was to talk to. How smart he was, how passionate he was about school subjects he loved, that he was as good a Seeker as Harry was. That he had never been someone to care that Harry was famous, but who saw him only as Harry. He challenged him and kept him on his toes. He was beautiful.

All of these things were going through his head, and he hadn’t realized them until now, but they were all true. When Harry had seen Draco earlier today, in the mirror… he’d stared. He hadn’t been able to help it. Draco had looked beautiful, ethereal. And he’d stared back.  
Harry wondered if Draco liked him, too. Was that what he and Daphne were keeping from him? He wasn’t sure. It would make a certain amount of sense, what with the Pepper-Up incident, or the random french whispers.

But he wasn’t sure.

Harry fell asleep.

_He was back at Riley’s. Harry could feel the walls and floor shaking slightly with the deep beat of the music, and it echoed through Harry’s body. The flashing lights played over the crowd, red and green and purple and blue. Harry looked around. There._

_Draco lounged against the wall on the opposite side of the dance floor, the gold makeup still adorning his face. He smirked, his eyes meeting Harry’s. Challenging him. Draco turned and walked into that hallway, but this time Theo wasn’t there._

_Harry followed him, skirting the crowd. Ducking into that dark hallway. Seeing the faint gleam of Draco’s blond hair._

_“I didn’t think you would come.” Draco said. Harry walked up to him._

_“Why not?” Their eyes locked, grey on green. He’s beautiful, Harry thought again. Draco smirked._

_“Well?” he drawled, and then Harry’s hands were framing Draco’s face, and their lips met, colliding together._

_It was soft, and sweet, and something infinitely precious. Then Draco opened his lips, deepening the kiss, and their tongues tangled. He tasted like mint. Draco moaned, and the low sound sparked something in Harry. He leaned into Draco, needing to be closer. To touch. His hands traced Draco’s shoulders, his back, his jawline. Harry couldn’t get enough of him._

Harry woke up with the taste of mint on his tongue. It was still nighttime, and Draco was still asleep, judging from the quiet, even breathing coming from his side of the room. Harry tentatively touched his lips with his finger, the dream still vivid in his mind.

Mint. Mint had been what he smelled in the Amortentia all those weeks ago. Mint like Draco’s shampoo.

Harry snarled softly. He was completely and utterly fucked.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco woke up by himself, for once. He groaned softly; his head was still throbbing, albeit less so than yesterday. Draco dropped his head back onto his pillow, scrubbing at his eyes with a tired hand, and making a little noise of dismay when he saw there was still gold eyeliner on his face.

He could hear the water running in the bathroom, and sat up slowly. Last night… last night felt like a fever dream. So much had happened, his mind was spinning trying to grasp it all. Not to mention his talk with Harry when Draco’d returned from the town. Something had shifted between them, but Draco had fallen asleep before he’d had a chance to take it in and figure it out. For once he hadn’t had a nightmare, even though he’d forgotten his dose of Dreamless Sleep.

Draco sighed heavily and got dressed. He was walking over to the bathroom when he spotted a slip of paper that had been slipped under their door, and picked it up. It was an envelope, decorated with delicate silver snowflakes, and embossed in silver cursive were the words:

_Your tickets to the Crystal Ball. December 22_

He was about to knock on the bathroom door when it opened, and Harry stepped out. They blinked at each other, and Draco swallowed before holding up the thin envelope.

“I found this by the door. Something about a Ball.” he said, hoping Harry couldn’t hear the slight shaking in his voice.

Harry reached out and took the paper, glancing at it.

“You think it’ll be like the Yule ball we had?” he asked, stepping around Draco, who’s eyes caught on Harry’s before sweeping away. A slight smell of vanilla was seeping from Harry, as well as the bathroom, and Draco cursed it silently, cursed how the warm, vanilla scented steam was wrapping around him like a blanket. Cursed the fact that he rather enjoyed the sensation.

“Maybe.” he replied, trying a little too hard to be casual. Harry smirked a little at him, and motioned to his face.

“You still have some glitter.” he teased, and Draco huffed.

“Yeah, I know. When’s breakfast?”

“Twenty minutes, so don’t take too long.” answered Harry, back to Draco as he sorted through his trunk. Draco made a noise of agreement before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door quietly behind him, leaning up against it and tipping his head back. I need to get myself back under control, he thought fiercely. Act normal.

But Draco still found his thoughts lay with the black-haired boy, just beyond the wall.

Twenty five minutes later Draco strolled out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. He’d made sure his robes were impeccable, because he’d found a long time ago that a perfect outfit helped his confidence. And he needed all the help he could get, with Harry nearby all the time. It was maddening.

Harry pointed at him. “Late,” he said sternly, but a smile danced on his lips. Draco smiled ruefully.

“Sorry. I tried.” he replied, tugging on his shoes. “Alright, let’s go down.” Draco and Harry walked down to the dining hall, and Draco was relieved to see that Harry was acting as normal as ever. Like yesterday had never happened. Which Draco was glad about, because it meant that they were still friends, still good friends. And his secret was still safe.

“There you are!” exclaimed Camille, when they joined their friends at the breakfast table.

“Did you get one of these?” asked Draco, holding up the slim envelope as he sat down next to Daphne. She tapped his hand, tilting her head and glancing at Harry as if to ask if last night had gone alright. Draco gave her a slight nod, and she smiled.

“Yes, for the annual Crystal Ball. It’s wonderful,” sighed Amelie. “Ice sculptures everywhere, like huge diamonds. It’s a winter wonderland.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Please tell me it’s not more dancing.” he remarked wryly, and Draco chuckled.

“Seconded.” Draco added, and Camille rolled her eyes at them.

“Of course there’s dancing, but it’s more traditional. And you don’t have to, necessarily.” she explained. “It’s like that Yule Ball they held at the Triwizard Tournament, from what I’ve heard about that.”

“Oh Merlin,” muttered Harry, and Draco snickered. “That was horrible.”

“All I remember is seeing you, Weasley, and the Patil twins sitting on the sidelines the whole damn time.” commented Draco airily. “Didn’t some Durmstrang boy steal your date eventually?”

Harry glared at him half-heartedly. “Yes, actually.” he replied dryly, and everyone sniggered. “Not that I cared very much. I was too busy trying to keep Ron and Hermione from blows over Victor Krum.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot she went with him. Weasley got mad at her for that?”

“Yeah, it was horrendous.” Harry shook his head.

“We should get going, Draco. Classroom’s on the other side of the school.” said Daphne, and Draco nodded, standing.

“See you.”

“Bye,” replied Harry. “Oh, hey- Patronus practice later?” Draco chewed on his lip absentmindedly. He wanted to spend time with Harry, of course, but the Patronus thing was so frustrating. Not to mention it made him tired.

“Yeah, alright.” he sighed finally, brushing strands of his hair out of his eyes, before looking up and meeting Harry’s gaze. There was something… different in his eyes now. Something more intense, but Draco couldn’t place it.

Daphne called his name but before he could go to her, Harry caught his sleeve.

“Stop stressing about the Patronus, Draco. You’ll get it. I know you will.” Harry said confidently, and Draco smiled slightly.

“Well, if Harry Potter says I’ll get it, then it must be true.” quipped Draco, and Harry smirked before letting go of his sleeve. His fingers brushed Draco’s wrist, sending his heartbeat into overdrive. Draco smiled again at Harry, a little unsteady. “Bye.”

“Bye, Draco.” Draco was still looking at Harry as he said it. His eyes were mesmerizing, captivating, and it took a great deal of effort to turn and walk away to Daphne’s side.  
The two Slytherins started walking out of the dining hall.

“I would ask you how last night went, but I’ll hazard a guess at well?” asked Daphne as they jogged up a staircase. Draco flushed but didn’t say anything, and Daphne playfully knocked her shoulder into his.

“Yes, it was fine.” Draco muttered. That stupid smile was still on his face, and it wouldn’t go away.

“Aw, look at you! You’re smiling! And blushing! This is so cute!” squealed Daphne. Draco smacked the back of her head gently.

“I was not doing any of that. I’m not a lovesick Hufflepuff.” he said indignantly as they began down the final hallway to their Healing class. She poked his cheek.

“No, you’re a lovesick Slytherin who was staring into Harry’s eyes like there was no tomorrow.” cackled Daphne, and at Draco’s outraged sputters she darted into the classroom before he could catch her, her merry laugher echoing in the halls.

….

Harry stared after Draco as he strolled over to Daphne. The two Slytherins walked off, and Harry caught one last glimpse of Draco’s smile before they disappeared around a corner.  
Harry had woken up early this morning, mind ever fixated on the dream he’d had last night. Everything about last night, actually. From the major things, like his talk with Draco, to the small details, like how the moonlight had lit up the gold around Draco’s eyes. Made a halo of his hair. The sound of his voice.

And when he’d opened the door to see Draco, it had been so difficult to keep himself from unabashedly staring. Difficult to act normal, act like all they were were friends. He’d managed, and every little laugh or smile from the Slytherin was like a beacon in a storm, like Harry was lost and Draco was all he could focus on.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop going over every memory. It was intoxicating and intense and crazy, and Harry didn’t mind at all.

He was getting better at not staring though. Just now, for example. Draco had been biting his lip, and it had been the most adorable thing. But Harry had forced himself to look away, even if his traitorous hand had caught Draco’s sleeve, trying to make him stay just a little longer.

“Harry? You ready?” Amelie said from behind him, and Harry turned around.

“Oh- yeah.” he responded, flustered. Whenever he thought about Draco it felt like everyone could tell, like he was broadcasting his thoughts or being super obvious. He hoped that wasn't true.

He fell into step with her and they walked up to the classroom, chatting about superficial things like the weather, the ball, Christmas. Harry wasn’t really listening, though.

“Alright class, today is the weekly trip down to the primary school, so everyone follow down to the carriages.” announced the teacher, and Harry was distracted momentarily.

Every week they’d taken the carriages down to a nearby primary school for wizarding children who were not yet old enough to enroll in a place like Beauxbatons, or Hogwarts. They’d assist the professors, or act as the professor for the classes as practice. Harry always enjoyed it; it was still amazing to him to see the little kids, some no older than toddlers, using magic like it was a third hand. It did make them quite difficult to control, though.

They left their school bags in the classroom and went down to the carriages, tramping through the empty hallways.

“Simon said he might ask Daphne to the ball,” said Amelie with a mischievous smile, and Harry looked over at her.

“I could see them together, actually.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Wait. You can take people? Damn, this really is the Yule Ball all over again.” he commented with a sad shake of his head. Parvati Patil leaned over from where she was walking with her sister.

“I hope not, for my sake.” she teased, and Harry smiled.

“Sorry about that. It was pretty horrible.”

“It was,” she agreed, and they all laughed. Amelie coaxed the story out of Harry, which distracted him until they got to the primary school.

“Amelie, Harry, you two will be teaching Class 4. Lesson plan is on the desk, we’ll go back up to Beauxbatons at lunch.” commanded the teacher, and Harry exchanged a glance with Amelie before nodding dutifully and entering Class 4.

The two are greeted by a cacophony of noise, as 9 year old's yell and chatter and send random things flying across the room, including each other. It’s wonderfully chaotic, and Harry has to smother a grin. Amelie sighed.

“Class 4, sit down.” Harry said firmly, but no one listened, or no one could hear him. He exchanged an amused look with Amelie, who strode to the front of the room. Harry followed, and leaned against the teacher’s desk, flipping through the lesson plan. Teaching them about other countries. Interesting.

“Classe quatre sois tranquille et asseyez-vous!” shouted Amelie over the noise, which quieted as the children noticed the two teacher-students. A couple of them muttered, but they all complied, sitting down at their desks and giving Amelie their full attention.

“Good morning, students.” began Amelie with a brilliant smile, her hands clasped in front of her. “My name is Ms. Amelie, and this is Mr. Harry.” Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and she shot him a just-go-with-it look. He snorted but let her go on. “Now, could we all go around and say our names, please? In English. Your name, and your favorite food, how about that. Let’s start over here.” She motioned to the front of one row, and a small girl with curly, dark hair cut in a bob stood up.

“My name is Maya, and I don’t like pizza.” she declared loudly, before sitting back down. Harry had to stop himself from smiling too much. He loved working with the little kids.

“Nice to meet you, Maya.” said Amelie smoothly. “How about you?”

“My name is Maddy, and I like chocolate,” replied a tallish blond girl. They went around the room, and all together there were around fifteen kids, all 9 years old. Amelie motioned for Harry to join her at the front of the class, which he did.

“Hello, class, my name is Mr. Harry-” he shot Amelie a glare- “and today Ms. Amelie and I will be teaching you about the countries in the world! Now, who can tell me a country that they know?” A smattering of hands went up, and Harry called on a little boy named Adam.

“America.” he yelled. Harry smiled.

“Good, that is a country.”

“But let’s remember to use our indoor voices, alright?” added Amelie, and Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

The class went on in this manner, until the Beauxbatons professor cracked open the door and told them it was time to go. Harry and Amelie had just wrapped up the lesson, so that fit perfectly with their timing.

“That was actually quite fun this time,” remarked Harry, and Amelie grinned.

“Yes, much better than last week, when two people puked on your shoes.” she teased, and Harry pulled a face.

“Oh, hold on. I’ll meet you at the carriages in a second, I have to deliver a letter.” he said suddenly, remembering the letter to Ron and Hermione tucked away in his robes. He dashed down the cobblestone street to the mail office, where he quickly paid for a mail-owl use and gave a snowy white owl his letter. “Hermione Granger, Hogwarts.” he told it, and felt a pang of nostalgia as the owl flew off. It looked very similar to Hedwig.

Five minutes later he was sequestered back in the carriages, staring out of the fogged-up pane of glass as the countryside rolled by.

“We’ll be back just in time for lunch,” commented Amelie. “Thankfully. I need to talk to Draco about something.” Harry blinked, all the thoughts of the Slytherin swarming back into his head, and he cursed silently. They would be back at Beauxbatons soon, he needed to be normal.

“What do you need to talk to him about?” Harry asked casually, trying not to seem too nosy. Amelie glanced at him.

“He and I share Herbology, and we have an essay due next week. I wanted to ask him about it,” she explained, and Harry nodded, forcibly ignoring the wave of relief that swept through him at the knowledge that she didn’t like Draco or anything like that. “Oh, here we are.” exclaimed Amelie, and with a sigh Harry followed her out of the carriage and up the steps of the school, trying in vain to think of snow, little children, owls, anything but the blond, snarky Slytherin who sat in the dining hall.

….

“It’s snowing!”

Draco’s head popped up at Camille’s delighted exclamation, as did everyone else’s. They were at dinner, and sure enough, out the windows Draco could see white flakes floating down from the sky.

“So that’s why it was so bloody cold today,” muttered Harry, and Draco smirked.

“Don’t get sick again, Potter.” he ordered, pointing his spoonful of chocolate mousse at Harry, who grinned back before snatching the spoon and eating the mousse. Draco’s mouth dropped open.

“Potter, you did not just eat my dessert.” Harry gave him another rakish grin, one that made his toes curl, but then Harry snatched Draco’s cup and kept eating it. “You thieving commoner bastard!” exclaimed Draco, punctuating each word with a smack on Harry’s arm with Amelie’s book. Amelie sighed from next to Harry and shook her head at them.  
“It’s not my fault you’re too slow to stop me,” said Harry smugly, and Draco stared him down. “Fine, here’s a new one.” He plunked a new cup down in front of Draco, who sniffed in disgust but began to eat.

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Draco muttered into his mousse.

“I heard that, you know.”

“Heard what?” said Draco innocently. “Your Gryffindor ego getting bigger?” Harry rolled his eyes with a smile, and Draco smirked.

“We should go have a snowball fight.” declared Simon. “The snow’s sticking, I can see it on the cobblestones.”

“Oui, faisons-le!” exclaimed Camille, clapping her hands. Draco smiled, for once thinking about Potter, but solely wanting to beat him. Instead of talk to him, be near him, kiss him…Focus, you dummy, Draco scolded himself.

“Yeah, then I can beat Potter’s ass.” Draco announced, fixing the Gryffindor with a challenging stare, which he returned in full.

“Alright, Malfoy.” Harry flicked up his eyebrows. “If you want a chance, you have one. But remember that Gryffindors always beat Slytherins.” Draco scoffed, and everyone else laughed.

Twenty minutes later they bundled out onto the front gardens, chattering and laughing in delight at the snow falling from the sky. It was dark out, but there were already a couple inches of snow on the ground, the powdery white substance coating all of the plants and statues in a uniform coating. Draco turned to Harry and snorted.

“There’s snow all over your hair,” he said, and Harry smiled.

“Yours too.”

“Well obviously.” stated Draco with a roll of his eyes. “It’s snowing.” Harry snickered, then burst out laughing as Draco felt someone tackle him from the side and send him flying onto the snowy, cold ground.

Draco struggled to raise his head and saw Daphne laying next to him, laughing her head off. Draco rolled his eyes at her, before dumping a handful of snow onto her face, and   
Daphne shrieked.

“That’s a good look on you.” commented Harry, a laugh interwoven in his voice. Draco raised his eyebrows.

“What, the snow?”

Harry chuckled, his green eyes sparkling.

“No, the knocked over chess piece look. It’s very creative,” said Harry airily, then yelped when Amelie’s snowball hit his glasses. “Hey!”

It was Draco’s turn to laugh. “That’s karma, Potter. Slytherin-style karma.” He kneeled down and scooped up snow, forming it into a ball between his freezing fingers. He could see Camille, Simon, Daphne, and Amelie throwing snow at one another and screaming in delight just behind Harry, who was watching them with his back to Draco. Draco smiled to himself, and walked casually up behind him, before yanking the back of Harry’s jacket collar open and dropping the snow down, smashing the remnants into the Gryffindor’s dark hair.

Harry arched his back and yelped again. “Jesus, that’s freezing,” he exclaimed, and Draco smiled, examining his nails in a façade of boredom as Harry batted at his jacket.

“It’s what you get, Potter.” commented Draco nonchalantly, looking up in time to see Harry walking towards him with a grin. “I mean- hey! Harry!” Draco exclaimed, for Harry had scooped him up like he’d done when Draco had a broken ankle, and was carrying him towards a mound of snow.

“Put me down!” Harry’s arms were holding Draco firmly, and his chest was warm against Draco’s side. Draco ignored the flush rising in his cheeks and battered at Harry’s chest.   
“Potter-AH!” Draco yelped, because Harry had just dropped him into the snow mound, and oh Merlin it was cold. Draco rolled out.

“Cold, cold, cold.” he chanted under his breath as he stood up, shivering, and Harry chuckled. “You prat!”

“You started it,” said Harry casually, leaning against a fountain, with his arms crossed, a satisfied smile on his face. “I told you Gryffindor’s always win.” Draco glared at him, not letting an inch of his plan show in his expression, before striding up and pushing Harry onto the snow.

But what he didn’t expect was for Harry to grab his arm and take Draco down with him. Draco fell on top of Harry, their legs tangling together, faces centimeters away. Draco’s hands were braced on Harry’s chest, and they blinked at each other.

“You-you-” spluttered Draco, and Harry chuckled, the vibration rumbling through Draco’s body. “Tosser.” Draco finally muttered, before looking up and meeting Harry’s eyes.  
Harry’s body was warm underneath of him, and every bit of Draco’s body was pressed into his. Draco could feel Harry’s heartbeat, thudding irregularly alongside his own. Could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, a steady metronome. Harry’s eyes were like a fire, Draco decided dazedly. Ever so many shades of the same color, and mesmerizing enough you could watch them for hours and never be bored of them.

Draco’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lips, pink and full and slightly parted. Draco was looking at Harry, and Harry was looking back, and there was that intense look again in his eyes, and Draco’s brain was full of the desire to lean forward and kiss him…

Snow smacked against the back of his head, and Draco swore as it trickled down the back of his shirt. He shifted off of Harry, the moment- whatever it had been- broken.

“Get up, you two! Help me beat these three!” shouted Daphne, her hands cupped around her mouth, eyes sparkling. Draco looked beyond her to see the three Beauxbatons students behind one of the snow covered hedges, throwing snowballs at a zigzagging Daphne.

“Never a dull moment, is there?” said Harry wryly as the two boys picked themselves up, and Draco laughed breathlessly.

“Yeah.” he replied faintly. _What had just happened? Did I give anything away? Was that what I thought it was? Does he…_

“Hurry up, I’m dying over here!” yelled Daphne as she dove away from another snowball, and with a sigh and a glance at the starry heavens Draco ran to go help her.

….

Harry walked up to the castle with Daphne, the two of them trailing behind the other four as they tramped up the hill. After the snowball fight had ended, they’d all realized they were freezing and made the wise decision to go inside.

Not that he would mind being sick again, thought Harry with a heavy sigh. It got him special attention from Draco, which he gladly welcomed.

Merlin, Draco.

What had just happened, when he’d landed on Harry after Harry’d grabbed Draco’s sleeve and pulled the Slytherin down with him...Harry could almost still see Draco in front of him, his grey eyes wide and beautiful. Feel the solid weight of him on his body, the hands pressing down on Harry’s chest, the warmth of being that close to someone else.  
It had been intoxicating, to be that close to him. Close enough to count every eyelash, every crease in his lower lip. They’d stared at each other, and Harry had been physically unable to look away, the other boy had mesmerized him.

Harry had never wanted to kiss him so badly. Kiss anyone that badly. It had been a struggle to keep those feelings from showing, and even then Harry wasn’t sure he’d accomplished it. He just wished he could tell if Draco liked him back. But Harry had always been rubbish at reading other people like that. Draco was better at that sort of thing.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Daphne conversationally, and Harry smiled wryly, his gaze snagging on Draco walking ahead of them, chatting with Simon in rapid French, the words indistinct but filled with smooth sounds.

“Nothing much,” lied Harry, finally glancing over at the other girl and finding her studying him with a curious expression. “You?” Harry knocked his shoes against the step of the main doors to the school as they entered, the warmth wrapping around him like a blanket.

“Just how glad I am to be warm again,” Daphne grumbled, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. “I think there’s still snow down my back.” Harry laughed.

“So how’s rooming with Draco? He behaving? Not too grumpy?” Daphne said mischievously, and Harry chuckled.

“You make him sound like he’s a cat, or something.”

“He might as well be sometimes.” Daphne quipped, and Harry shook his head in amusement.

“No, he’s great. Fun to talk too, even though he hogs the bathroom and takes up all the space with his beauty bottles. It’s hard to wake him up in time for breakfast, though, he stays up all night and sleeps really late.” said Harry, a fond smile forming instinctively on his lips.

Daphne was still watching him, a speculative expression on her face.

“Sounds like him,” she said with a grin. “Well, this is me. G’night.” She waved merrily and slipped into her dorm, and Harry went over to his, noticing the door was ajar from Draco entering ahead of him. He rolled his eyes, closing it behind him as he walked into the dimly lit room.

“That is you, Harry, right?” came Draco’s voice from the bathroom. “Not some Muggle with a chainsaw?” Harry chuckled, sitting on his bed.

“I doubt either of us knows how to work a chainsaw, Draco.”

“True. Can you get my slippers?”

“Why the hell do you need slippers?” Harry scoffed.

“The floor is cold, Potter. Your plebian feet might be used to it but mine are certainly not.”

“Draco, we were just outside in the freezing cold and you were fine.”

“Oh nevermind, I found them.” came Draco’s voice, and a few seconds later he trod out of the bathroom, green slippers on his feet. Harry laughed. “Shut up, Potty.” Draco scowled as he passed by Harry, who breathed in the smell of sweet mint.

“Potter, are you smelling me?” Draco raised his eyebrows, but Harry saw a hint of a smile of his face.

“You smell good. Like mint.” Harry defended himself, blushing a little at being caught.

“I always smell like mint.” responded Draco dryly, before his face fell slack all of a sudden, like he’d thought of something that surprised him. The expression was gone in an instant, smoothed over, but Harry wondered about it.

“Oh, we forgot to practice today.” Harry exclaimed quickly, rushing to change the subject. “Patronuses,” he added at Draco’s quizzical glance. Draco shrugged.

“Tomorrow, then?” he offered, and Harry nodded. “Oh, did you deliver Hermione’s letter?” continued Draco as he pulled his blanket up to cover him.

“Yeah, while I was down at the village I sent it off.”

“Oh yeah, how was your class today, Professor Potter?” Draco smirked, propping his head on one arm as he looked at Harry.

“Alright. No one vomited this time. We had to teach them about countries.” replied Harry nonchalantly, fiddling with his glasses. Draco snorted.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Harry Potter was teaching small children about the world,” teased Draco, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Harry rolled his eyes, copying Draco’s position as they faced one another, his head propped up on one arm.

“Yeah, yeah. What do you think about that ball?” asked Harry, glancing quickly at the white envelope that lay on Draco’s bedside table. The Slytherin bit his lip, thankfully not noticing Harry’s stare. He looks so cute when he does that, thought Harry absentmindedly, before touching back down to reality and hastily stopping his staring.

“I don’t know. I mean, as long as it’s nothing like when we went to Riley’s.” said Draco, and Harry snickered.

“I don’t know, watching you get drunk was pretty funny.” teased Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes, throwing a pillow at him. Harry caught it and tucked it under his head.

“Watch it, Potty.” Draco replied with a huff, but his lips were curving into a small smile. Harry grinned back.

“Night.” Harry said, turning off his lamp.

“G’night.” came Draco’s voice, slightly sleepy, and Harry smiled again in the dark as he turned over and feel asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_Mint. He said I smelled like mint. He also said earlier his Amortentia smelled like mint,_ thought Draco for the thousandth time, lying on his back on his bed. It was nighttime, and Draco could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops outside, a steady thrumming that usually calmed him. But right now he was a jittery mess. Draco rolled over, facing the wall. _But that doesn’t really mean anything. He could be smelling someone’s toothpaste or something. There’s no way it’s me. He doesn’t even like me._

_But what if he does?_

_What if he doesn’t?_

Draco sighed, clutching the edge of his blanket between his fingers. He’d been going back and forth like this for the past week and a half, and it was starting to wear on him. He so desperately wanted it to mean what he thought it might, but he knew it probably wasn’t. He was just getting his hopes up and acting like a dumb character in one of those romance novels Pansy read.

Draco closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep, but it was in vain. He sighed again, angry with himself for stressing about this so much.

“Draco?” Harry’s whisper sounded, and with a silent prayer Draco turned over to face Harry, hoping he hadn’t talked out loud and woken him up or something.

“Yeah?” he murmured back. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No.” came Harry’s quiet reply. “But why are you up again? You’ve been tired this whole week. You should sleep more.”

Draco bit his lip absentmindedly, a little amused that Harry sounded like Hermione and his mother, but also touched that the other boy had cared enough to notice. Not that he was doing it for Harry’s attention, but it was nice when people fussed sometimes. Draco would never tell anyone that, though. They’d think he’d gone round the twist. He was starting to agree with that sentiment.

“I’m fine, Harry.” whispered Draco, supporting his head with his hand. “Go back to sleep.”

The dim moonlight lit up the room enough that Draco could see Harry frowning.

“Only if you do.” said Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Just because all Gryffindors are notoriously stubborn doesn’t mean you have to be.” replied Draco snidely. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, we have to go out to the village today, remember?”

They had plans to go into one of the nearby villages to buy Christmas presents for all of their friends and family since it was mid-December. Though Draco still hadn’t a clue what to get Harry, or Daphne. Or anyone, really. Except Hermione, she was similar enough to himself that he knew he could just get her something academic-related and she’d be delighted.

“Exactly my point.” came Harry’s whisper, and Draco closed his eyes briefly.

“Fine,” he hissed, and settled into bed, shutting his eyes. He heard Harry do the same across the room. For once Draco’s head cleared of worries, and he focused on the sounds of the rain beating on the roof, finally letting the noise lull him into sleep.

When Draco’s eyes fluttered open again, it was to bright sunlight streaming in through the window, accompanied by a cold breeze. He hunkered down in his blanked at the chill.

“Why the fuck is the window open, Potter?” Draco asked indignantly, his words a little sleep-slurred. Harry sauntered out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in hand.

“I’m testing ways to get you up in the morning without me having to do it myself.” he replied, and Draco narrowed his eyes. It was the morning, for Merlin’s sake. Too early for this shit.

“Close the window.”

“It’s nice, though, I mean- hey!” Harry yelped, his arms coming up in a defensive reflex and blocking the pillow Draco had flung at him.

“Close. The. Window. Now.” demanded Draco, still lounging in bed. _There are times when we have chemistry,and then there are times like these, when we bicker like an old married couple._

“Get up then, Draco.” Harry said, sending him a lazy grin. A wonderful, rakish smile that took all the fight out of Draco and made his cheeks heat. Draco huffed and got up, if only so he could turn his pink-tinged face away from Harry.

One hour and two more flung pillows later, the two of them stood in a bookshop, both browsing the shelves for Hermione’s gift.

“A Study of Elemental Transfiguration,” mused Harry, picking up a book. “I think she’d like- oh wait no, she already has this one.” Draco sniggered, smug that he already had a book picked out, as well as a distiller for Potions that Hermione was always eyeing in the post.

“Hurry up, Potter, we still have like ten people each to get shit for.” reprimanded Draco, his foot tapping on the smooth wooden floors. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. At least you don’t have to shop for the whole Weasley family.” Harry grumbled. “Plus Hermione, Andromeda, and Teddy, Camille and Amelie.” Harry finally picked out a thick volume and put it in his bag. “Plus,” he continued, “a very fancy blond Slytherin who has expensive tastes.”

Draco smirked, secretly pleased. “Well,” he drawled. “I have to shop for you- who could do with a bit more expensive tastes- Camille, Simon, Hermione, Weasley, Pansy, Blaise,  
Daphne, and my mother. I’d say your list is not better than mine.” Harry shot him a half amused, half exasperated glance as they stood in line.

“True. I’m only shopping for one Slytherin.” Harry teased, his green eyes sparkling. Draco pouted.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” he replied. “Everyone needs at least three good Slytherins in their life.”

“And how many Gryffindors?” asked Harry, humouring him as they stepped out of the shop into the brisk, cold air. Draco tilted his head.

“Two. And one Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaw.”

“But most primarily, Slytherins?”

“Exactly.” agreed Draco, directing them to a shop filled with trinkets, jewelry and delicate glass sculptures. Harry laughed next to him, and they exchanged grins.

Draco liked when they bantered like this, honestly. It helped him take his mind off of how he liked Harry, and how that was currently going no damn where. It was a good distraction, a semblance of normalcy.

Three hours later Draco had bought an ornate bracelet for Pansy, who loved anything and everything flashy, and a billowy blue scarf for his mother, as well as a box of chocolate caramels from a place she was particularly fond of. He then had found a twisty abstract, green and gold-tinged piece of glasswork for Blaise, who had a collection of glasswork, and at a Quidditch supply shop he bought Weasley some good Keeper’s gloves, as Weasley’s were a bit frayed and worn. For Daphne he purchased a little silver charm necklace and some new quills, Camille a cashmere sweater she’d been mooning over, and Simon a pot of broom wax and a book of poems, because Draco had spent one memorable afternoon with him where he’d discovered the French boy’s fondness for poetry.

So all that was left was Harry’s present, and Draco still didn’t know what to do for that. He’d considered everything Quidditch-related, but Harry was as much of a Quidditch fanatic as Draco was and therefore had everything he needed already. He probably wouldn’t want anything academic, plus Hermione would definitely be getting everyone something in that category. No, he wanted his present to be meaningful, but Draco had no bloody clue how to do that. He’d even considered getting Harry a freaking pet, but that wasn’t right either.

Merlin, this was so difficult.

….

“Why is this so fucking difficult?” muttered Harry under his breath as he wandered the aisles of the shop that he and Draco were in. He was trying to think of something to get Draco for Christmas, but had been drawing a blank for the past half hour on any objects that Draco wanted or needed. Nothing for school, or quidditch, and Harry knew if he tried to get Draco clothes it probably wouldn’t be up to stack with his normal attire. Draco didn’t collect anything, and all his hobbies or interests were something Harry had already considered.

Harry sighed, resigned to not buying anything for the Slytherin today. Maybe he could come back next weekend, or after dinner sometime. Harry looked around for Draco and found him walking away from the countertop, a new bag weighing down his arms. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“Are you done?” asked Harry, and Draco nodded.

“You?” replied Draco, glancing at him as they left, and Harry shrugged.

“Almost.” he said wryly. “I might come back later this week.” Draco nodded again.

“Back to school?” he offered.

“Yeah, let’s go. I’ve had enough shopping for five years.” complained Harry, and Draco smirked as they stepped out into the cold, both of them shivering involuntarily as the change in temperature hit them.

“This is nothing. My mother can be on her feet for twelve hours when she shops. She always dragged me with her, too. And Pansy’s the same way.” commented Draco. “Here, hold on.” Harry obliged him and stopped, and they set their bags down on a bench. Draco took out his wand and flourished it at one of Harry’s bag, then peered inside.

“What did you do?” asked Harry curiously, before Draco stuck his whole arm inside of the bag. “Oh, Undetectable Extension Charm?”

“Yeah.” responded Draco, repeating the spell on one of his own bags before storing all the others inside of it, so he only had to carry one. Harry copied him and soon they set off to the carriage station.

“Hermione’s brilliant at those,” said Harry, smiling at the memory of her little beaded bag that she’d used when they were on the run in seventh year. “She used it on this little bag  
and stored all her books in there.” Draco snorted.

“Sounds like her.”

Five minutes later Harry had paid for a carriage and the two of them were tucked away inside of it as it trundled up towards Beauxbatons. Harry was grateful that the inside of the carriage was toasty and warm, letting no hint of the chill outside seep in. Draco was on the seat opposite him, legs tucked up on the seat with his knees against his chest, nibbling at a box of chocolates as he stared out the window. Harry leaned forward and snagged a chocolate, grinning at Draco’s small noise of outrage.

“Buy your own shit, Potter.” snapped Draco, but there was no cruel bite in his voice. Harry smirked as he ate, eyes widening a little at the rich flavors.

“That’s good,” Harry said appreciatively, eyeing the box that Draco was now guarding.

“It’s quality, of course.” Draco stated snidely. “Very expensive. Not for you.” Harry snorted.

“Wasn’t that the box for your mother?” he asked dryly, and Draco smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, but I’ll just get her another one later. She’ll never know.” he replied confidently, and Harry laughed.

“Do you want to practice Patronuses later?” he said, and Draco pouted a little. They’d been practicing every few days, and Draco had managed a shield form, but not the full Patronus form, which had frustrated the Slytherin to no end.

“I guess. Later today, then.” Draco replied ruefully, biting his lower lip as he resumed his stare out the window, and Harry watched him, as he tended to do whenever Draco did that. It just made him look so… irresistible. Harry flushed a little at this thought, but resolutely admitted to himself that that was the best way to describe it. As odd as it was.

“What?”

Harry flinched a little at Draco’s voice, before meeting the other boy’s grey eyes, which were curiously inspecting him.

“I spaced out, sorry.” lied Harry, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. His cheeks were warm. Draco smirked a little, clearly amused, before gazing out the window again. Harry did the same, staring determinedly out of the opposite window.

“Oh, here we are.” commented Draco, and the carriage slowed to a stop in front of Beauxbatons. They stepped out and began the walk to their dormitories, but Harry noticed Draco was still glancing at him every now and then, so he hastened to distract him.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here for a month and a half,” he said.

“Yeah, it feels like we’ve always been here. It’ll be weird having Christmas here, though.” responded Draco, turning the doorknob of their dorm door and walking inside, depositing his bag on his bed. Harry followed him in and did the same.

“Yeah. I’ve been having Christmas at Hogwarts for six years.” replied Harry thoughtfully as he sank gratefully into an armchair. “Merlin, it’s so nice to sit down.” he added. Draco smirked at him as he also sat down.

“I felt kind of bad about coming on this trip, and leaving Mother all alone for the holidays,” mused Draco. “But her letters said she was talking to her sister again, so I’m glad she won’t necessarily be alone, what with her sister and the baby.”

“Andromeda and Teddy?” asked Harry interestedly.

“Yes. You know them?”

“I’m Teddy’s godfather, and Andromeda let me stay with her over the summer. She’s very kind, and Teddy’s wonderful.” said Harry, smiling, and Draco blinked.

“You’re the godfather of my cousin’s kid?” Draco asked with surprise.

“Yeah.” replied Harry, amused. Draco shook his head and muttered something under his breath before letting out a great sigh.

“Come on, you dummy.” said Harry, standing up. “Patronuses.”

“But we just got back,” protested Draco in a tone that sounded suspiciously like a whine, and Harry snickered.

“Weren’t you just telling me about your superior shopping skills? Besides, would you rather do it now, or after dinner when it’s freezing and dark?” cajoled Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes.

“Fine.” he muttered, and Harry smiled.

They put on coats again and went outside, slowing to a stop in a courtyard in the gardens they had been using for Patronus practice, a small grassy area bordered by low hedges.

“Alright,” said Harry. “You’ve almost gotten it, I think you’re going to get it really soon. Go ahead and try now. Remember to focus only on that memory, don’t let your mind stray.”  
Draco nodded, a determined look on his face, and raised his wand.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said clearly, and the silvery, translucent light that Harry knew so well streamed from the point of Draco’s wand. It wasn’t forming a shield this time, nor just insubstantial wisps of magic, it looked to be actually weaving into the shape of Draco’s patronus. Harry grinned, glad for Draco. He’d been so frustrated about not getting it. 

But suddenly the Patronus stopped coming together, and the light ceased coming from Draco’s wand, and Harry looked over in confusion at the blond in time to see his eyes flutter shut, and Draco crumpled to the ground.

….

“Draco. Draco!”

Harry’s voice sounded far away, as if they were standing at opposite ends of the Black Lake. Draco’s vision came slowly into focus, the blurred shapes and colors sharpening until he could make out Harry’s face above him. He was lying on the ground. Draco blinked up at Harry, confused.

“What happened?” he said weakly, and Harry helped him sit up.

“You passed out.” Draco flushed from embarrassment, but Harry kept talking. “I think you were too tired to provide all the energy the spell needed. But you were really close, your Patronus almost formed, I saw it coming together.” he finished.

“Oh.” replied Draco faintly, one hand going to his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The knowledge that he’d almost gotten his Patronus seemed insignificant, somehow, when he looked down and saw that Harry was holding his other hand. Draco glanced up to meet Harry’s eyes. As soon as he did Harry’s hand released his, and Draco mourned the loss of contact. _But why was he… no, it was just because I passed out. That’s reasonable, right, I mean-_

“I think we should stop for today.” said Harry, peering at him with obvious concern. Draco cleared his head of it's jumble of thoughts, drew himself up and stood.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but his voice sounded quavery, even to his own ears. Harry gave him a knowing look and handed him his wand. He must’ve dropped it.

“Come on.” persuaded Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes before the two of them walked back up to the school. As they entered Draco did find he was slightly unsteady on his feet, so privately he was a little relieved they’d returned inside. “Want to go to dinner?” offered Harry, and Draco shook his head.

“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, I have to go meet one of my professors first.” explained Draco. He’d asked to meet with his Healing Magic professor, because he was starting to get an idea for Harry’s christmas present but wanted to ask his teacher about one aspect of it.

Harry nodded and they went their separate ways, Harry continuing down to the dining hall while Draco ascended the many staircases to his professor’s office.

“Draco, how may I help you? You said earlier that you had a question for me?” His professor sat behind a desk, and Draco sat across from him.

“Yes,” he began. “Thanks for meeting me, Professor Sudi.” he added hastily. The professor smiled but motioned for him to go on. “I was wondering if it was possible to imbue an object with a Healing spell? Like, for instance, let’s say the patient has severe panic attacks. Could we imbue a small trinket with a spell that would help during those panic attacks, maybe like if they held it it would activate the spell?”

His professor had a thoughtful look on his face, and Draco waited with bated breath. He had lied when he said “for instance”. He wanted to try to make something that would help Harry during his panic attacks. The idea had struck him while they’d sat in the carriage returning to Beauxbatons that day, but he wasn’t sure if it was even possible. Hence the meeting.

“That is a very creative idea, Draco.” replied Professor Suri, his tone thoughtful. “I think- while it may be a complicated and advanced bit of magic- that what you speak of might indeed be possible, and I certainly think you have the skills for it.” Draco preened a little bit at the praise, relieved his idea wasn’t complete rubbish. “However I must ask that you do this under my supervision, as it is experimentation; but also I would like to monitor your progress.” added the professor, and Draco readily agreed. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone with him while he figured this out.

He said a polite goodbye to Professor Suri after scheduling another meeting to begin working on his project, sending a fervent prayer up to the sky that it would work, and that he would be done in time for Christmas.

Draco walked down to the dining hall, mulling over the other things he’d decided to get Harry, after much deliberation. A sweater like the ones Draco loved, because Harry was always stealing his, and a box of those fancy chocolates, because why not. All in all Draco was quite pleased with himself for finally settling on what he thought were good Christmas presents.

“There you are!” Daphne waved him over to their table in the dining hall, and Draco hastened to sit down next to her, and across from Harry. “Harry said you went Christmas shopping today? What did you get for everyone?” she prodded, and Draco smirked. It wasn’t hard to tell she wanted to know what he’d gotten for her.

“Well,” said Draco, biting into his roll. “I got Blaise another glass sculpture, you know he has that collection.” Daphne nodded, her eyes wide and expectant, and Draco exchanged an amused glance with Harry. “And I got Camille that sweater she was going on about, Simon some broom wax and one of those poem books he likes, I got Pansy a fancy bracelet. A scarf and a box of chocolates for my mother, a pair of Keeper’s gloves for Weasley, a book on Arithmancy and a distiller for Hermione.” Draco went on, finishing his bread. He left out Daphne’s and Harry’s, obviously.

“And me?” prompted Daphne, and Draco laughed.

“Wait and see, nosy.” She huffed and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Did I hear my name?” Camille butted in, and Draco smiled at her.

“Talking about Christmas presents. And no, Daphne, you may not tell anyone at this table what I got them.” he added sternly to Daphne, who pouted. Camille sighed.  
“You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Draco flapped a hand. “I’ve been playing this game every Christmas since I was about eight. You won’t get it out of me.” Camille wrinkled her nose, before conceding defeat and changing the subject.

“Excited for the ball?” she asked, and Daphne laughed in delight.

“Hell yeah. I ordered my new dress robes a week ago.”

“What about you two?” Camille looked at Draco, then Harry, and Draco swapped a look with the Gryffindor.

“You mean have I ordered new dress robes? No.” replied Draco with amusement.

“Seconded.” added Harry, and they grinned at each other. Camille gave them both an exasperated look.

“It’s going to be fun, and you will show up. Knowing the two of you, you’d probably try to skip it,” she declared. “And you have to wear nice clothes, Harry.” Camille eyed him sternly, and Draco snickered.

“My clothes are fine! I have dress robes,” said Harry defensively, and Draco snorted.

“Yeah, from fourth year.” he teased, and Harry sent him an exasperated look.

“You were supposed to back me up, Malfoy.” he said.

“Oh, my apologies, Potter.” Draco shot back, and Daphne rolled her eyes at them, and Draco smirked.

“Whatever. Draco’s just jealous I’ll be prettier than him at the ball.” Harry proclaimed, and the two girls sniggered while Draco raised his eyebrows.

“Sure, Harry. At least I can get my hair to cooperate. Yours looks like it’s been through a blender.” he replied somewhat scathingly, but nudged Harry’s foot under the table. Harry trapped Draco’s foot in between both of his own, and Draco scowled, looking up at Harry’s rakish grin as he tried unsuccessfully to get his foot back. “Hey! Let go!”

“No chance.” replied Harry smugly, and Draco huffed, but his heart was beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs, like a bird dashing against the bars of a birdcage, trying to get out and fly free.

….

After dinner, Draco and Camille went to go to study in the library, and Harry took the opportunity to pull Daphne aside. He hadn’t been able to think of anything to get Draco for Christmas, but an idea had struck him- of doing something with him, not buying him something. Harry was inspired by the memory of when they had stargazed together, and Amelie had told him that there was supposed to be a meteor shower on the night of the ball, so Harry was thinking of bringing Draco out to watch. He wanted to run it by Daphne, though, as she was Draco’s closest friend at Beauxbatons aside from Harry.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” he asked as they left the dining hall, and she tilted her head.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I couldn’t think of anything to get Draco for Christmas,” Harry began, leaning against the wall. “But I was thinking of doing like, something else. Instead of buying him something, I mean. Do you think he would like it if we went, like, star-gazing? There’s supposed to be a meteor shower the night of the ball,” said Harry, well aware that he was babbling but unable to stop it. Daphne gave him a knowing, searching look.

“Come walk the grounds with me,” she said in reply, but it was less of an offer and more of a command. Her tone was unreadable. Harry did so, walking next to her as they stepped outside. He shivered slightly as the cold night air washed over him, a small knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach. What was she on about?

They went a ways into the garden, until Daphne stopped in a little courtyard, and conjured a bubble of warm air around them. Harry sighed a little. It felt nice to be warm.

“You like him.” said Daphne, and Harry’s heart stopped for what seemed like years.

“How did you-” he stuttered, shock and panic reverberating through every bit of his body.

“I see the way you look at him,” she said knowingly, and Harry was strongly reminded of Hermione, confronting him about Ginny. The words were the same. “And,” Daphne went on slowly, “the way he looks at you.”

Harry’s heart stopped again, as did his breathing. The whole world paused, and shifted as Harry took in what she’d said, emotion rising like a cresting wave within him.

“He likes me back?” he asked, a little desperately. His stress and shock at Daphne knowing that he liked Draco was wiped away, and in its place was the shock and hope of this new fact. Daphne simply nodded, her eyes scrutinizing him. Draco likes me back. Harry turned the words over in his head, those four words that shook him to his core.

“Now, I’m only telling you this because I think it’s time you two stop dancing around one other and figure out what you are to each other.” Daphne said firmly, and as she went on Harry could see a hint of Slytherin steel in her eyes. “But if you mess with him, if you hurt him, you can trust one hundred percent that I will hurt you, because Draco deserves to be loved unconditionally.”

Harry blinked. “I know he does.” he replied simply.

Daphne nodded. “Good,” she said. “And yes, I think he’d like the star-gazing. Merlin knows he’s not especially looking forward to this ball, anyways. You didn’t hear any of this from me.” Harry smiled weakly, his head still spinning with new realizations.

Daphne walked away, taking her bubble of warm air with her, and a chill wrapped around him as he stood still, goosebumps covering his skin. But Harry didn’t care about that, he could barely feel it. There was a warmth in his chest, a glowing warmth around his heart that beat to those four words. Draco likes me back.  
Harry returned to his dorm, his thoughts buzzing wildly. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. _If Draco likes me, should I talk to him about it? Would he say yes to a date? Or dating? How do I bring this up? When do I bring this up?_

Definitely not now, decided Harry as he ascended a staircase. He pondered the questions, his feet moving as if on autopilot.  
_What if I told him during the night of the ball?_ That was certainly… a more, well, special moment, than just randomly. Harry didn’t think Draco was one for caring about grand romantic gestures, but in Harry’s mind the reveal plan was just as important as the outcome.

 _Alright,_ thought Harry, his brain slowing back down to normal speed somewhat, _I’ll tell him then, and from there.. I guess see what he says. Maybe ask him out? I’ve never done this before, really. With Cho it was awkward, but she kind of set up all the dates and things, and with Ginny, well, I just kissed her, but I never really asked her out properly. It just sort of happened._

Harry was jittery as he walked down the final hallway, at the end of which lay his dorm room. His and Draco’s dorm room. Merlin, it was going to be ten times harder to keep this secret from Draco, especially because he was such an observant person. There was still a week until the ball, and if he wanted to wait until then...well there was nothing else for it.  
He’d have to just make it to that day, somehow.

Harry opened the door, silently cursing the way his hand was trembling slightly.

“Hey, Harry. I was wondering where you’d gone.” said Draco, looking up from where he was curled in the armchair, reading some book. He smiled at Harry, who smiled shakily back.

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Draco continued, amusement woven through his voice. Harry shoved down all of his nervous feelings. Act normal.

“No, I’m fine,” he replied noncommittally, walking over to his bed and doing his best not to stare at Draco as the blond returned to his book.

Maybe he’ll initiate something… but Daphne didn’t seem to think that was likely, if she told me Draco liked me back. She seemed to think I’d have to make the first move.

Harry chanced another glance at Draco, who was absorbed in his reading. His legs were tucked up underneath him, and his blond hair was swept a little to the side. He was biting his lip as he read, which Harry had noticed a long time ago was something he did a lot, but absentmindedly. His hand was curled around the edge of the book’s cover, while the other one fingered a page, his silver rings bumping silently against the paper. His grey eyes were tilted downwards, so the main impression was of his blond, thick lashes-

Harry clenched his jaw and looked away, rummaging through his trunk just for something to do. Merlin, this was difficult.

He wanted to be with Draco, he did, but he’d rather fight five Hungarian Horntails than be this stressed and nervous for a whole week. Harry sighed quietly. _I really hope this works out._


	14. Chapter 14

Draco stared at himself in the mirror. His dress robes looked alright, and he had managed to get his blond hair the way he wanted. His “hygiene stuff”, as Harry called it, seemed to have payed off, as his skin was clear and soft. Draco sighed.

It was the night of the Crystal Ball, December 22, and Draco was getting ready to head down to the ballroom. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t really want to go. He was over all of these dressy events by now.

“Draco, are you done yet?” came Harry’s voice, and Draco allowed himself a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second.” he replied.

The past week had been a little odd, in his opinion, thought Draco. Harry had seemed very jittery, and never looked like he was fully relaxed. Draco had pestered him about it a couple times, but to no avail.

But Draco had been distracted somewhat from this by Daphne and Camille’s chatter about the ball, about Simon asking Daphne to the ball, and about Harry’s Christmas present. Draco was proud to say that he was almost done with it; he’d figured out how to embed or imbue a spell into an object, and how to activate it at a certain thing, which he’d made tapping it three times. It had taken a lot of complex spellwork, and some Arithmancy, but he’d done it. Now all he had to do was pick the object and cast the final spells.

Draco cleared these thoughts from his head impatiently. His left forearm suddenly tingled a little, and he raised his sleeve to see the vibrant phoenix tattoo that he’d become quite fond of. He smiled, a little calmer now. In the past, a tingle or ache had meant something horrible, but this time it felt like a comforting word spoken, or a much-needed hug. Something welcomed, not hated.

“Draco!” came Harry’s voice again, and Draco hastened to drop his sleeve and join Harry outside.

“Sorry, sorry.” he said, meeting Harry’s eyes and smiling slightly. Harry’s eyes were wide and bright behind his glasses, and he grinned back before they set off.

“I think your dress robes are better than mine,” commented Harry as they walked through the hallways towards the sound of orchestral music. Draco smirked, taking the edge of his sleeve between two fingers and rubbing the smooth fabric between them. He glanced at Harry, who was wearing nice robes of bottle-green.

“Nah, just more expensive.” responded Draco with a grin. He felt at ease, as he always did around Harry. Who was tapping his fingers relentlessly against the side of his thigh as they walked. “Why are you fidgeting again, Potter?”

“I’m nervous,” blurted Harry, then abruptly closed his mouth as his cheeks reddened. He looked away from Draco, who kept gazing at him.

“For what?” asked Draco, a little amused, but curious as to what had made the Gryffindor so jumpy for the past week. Harry coughed a little.

“Oh. Er. Just-the ball,” he said feebly, and Draco snickered.

“You’re a pathetic liar, Potter.” Harry raised his eyebrows as their eyes met yet again, and Draco smirked back, even as his heartbeat quickened at the sight of Harry.

“Draco! Harry! There you are!” exclaimed Camille, looking very pretty in robes of pale silver. They stepped inside the ballroom. It was decorated lavishly with exquisite ice sculptures, as Amelie had described, and glittering crystal chandeliers. There were neat holly branches and red ribbons twisting around the columns, and magical icicles hanging from staircase railings. All together it painted quite a festive picture, and it distracted Draco momentarily from what he’d been talking about with Harry just earlier.  
Camille seized their hands and dragged them over next to the dessert table, which Draco eyed hopefully.

“Look at those two!” she whispered, giggling, and pointed discreetly to a pair on the dance floor. Draco did, and realized the dancing couple were Simon and Daphne, both looking very happy as they spun around the gleaming silver dance floor.

“Cute,” Draco said, smirking. He snagged a little pastry from behind him and popped it in his mouth, humming appreciatively as the flavors hit his tongue. Harry snorted as he watched Draco.

“Just like Ron,” he said, shaking his head, and Draco laughed as he ate another sweet.

Fifty minutes later Draco was leaning on an icy column, resting his feet. He’d been dragged into dancing by Camille and Daphne, who’d been watching him rather inquisitively, her eyes darting between him and Harry. He’d questioned her about it, but of course she had revealed nothing. And she was a better liar than Harry, too. Draco was starting to think, with some flutters of trepidation, that something was being kept from him.

_Does he… does Harry know? What is this all about?_

Draco shook his head. He was probably just overreacting. It’s not like anything had happened for the past few months that Draco had liked Harry, so why would that change now?

“Hey.” Draco looked up to see Harry, leaning against the next column with his hair wonderfully ruffled and messy.

“Hey,” replied Draco, somewhat breathlessly. There was a spark, a hint of something in Harry’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. The Gryffindor sauntered over to Draco with a rakish smile, and tilted his head.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked, and Draco blinked in surprise, unable to look away from Harry. He looked amazing tonight.

“W-What?” he replied, all too aware of the quaver in his voice. Like...a date? What is this? Is this what they were hiding?

“Come on, Draco.” declared Harry, and, grabbing him by the arm, steered him out of the ballroom. Draco sputtered.

“Potter! Explain!” he said indignantly, but melted a bit when Harry turned another brilliant smile on him.

“Well, I couldn’t think of anything to get you for Christmas. But there’s a meteor shower tonight, and I thought you might like to watch it with me?” said Harry, and Draco noted some uncertainty in his voice. He looked so earnest.

“It’s cold outside,” protested Draco weakly.

“Daphne taught me a spell that makes it warm around you. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Draco took a shaky breath, trying furiously to control his thoughts.

“Alright,” he said, and followed Harry out of the hallway and into the quiet, starlit night.

….

Harry’s hands were trembling as he walked up the grassy hill. Oh Merlin, why was he doing this? It had been stressing him out all week, making him increasingly jumpy, and Draco had definitely noticed, although by some stroke of luck everything had gone smoothly so far. As they’d left the ballroom, Daphne had caught Harry’s eye and given him an encouraging sort of smile, but it hadn’t done much to soothe his nerves.

Finally they reached the spot Harry had picked out, and as Harry walked to the blanket he felt the air change from chilly to pleasantly warm, and sighed in relief. Another thing that was working out. He’d set the blanket on top of the hill, and laid out all of Draco’s favorite little snacks and desserts. As they sat down, Harry watched Draco, anxious for his response to all of this.

“Hey, you- this is all of my favorite foods and shit!” exclaimed Draco, giving Harry a surprised grin. Harry gave him a smile, suddenly glad for the dim lighting that concealed the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh, look at that,” breathed Draco, his eyes shining with wonder as he gazed up at the sky. Harry followed suit and his mouth parted in awe. The meteor shower had started, and it was breathtaking. Arcs of light raced across the deep blue sky, and all of the normal stars were out in full force, making a kaleidoscope of dots and patterns.

“Want to go flying?” offered Harry, and Draco turned to him.

“Yes, but we don’t have our-”

Harry pointed to the two broomsticks that he’d retrieved earlier that day from their spaces in the broomshed, and Draco smiled, looking as wondrous as any of the stars overhead.

A minute later they were in the air, flying lazily underneath the blanket of stars, watching the light shoot by. Harry glanced over at Draco, who was practicing loops and dives and Seeker’s tricks, but always with his face turned to watch the sky. Harry directed his broom with light pressure from his hands and flew up alongside Draco.

“It’s so nice out,” said the blond absentmindedly as they flew steadily side by side. “Thanks for setting this up, Harry.” Harry smiled at him again, something he couldn’t help but do, and Draco grinned back mischievously. “I’ll race you back to the hill.” he exclaimed, and did a sharp turn. Harry swooped after him, resuming his position alongside Draco as they sped towards the hill. Draco whooped joyously, and Harry laughed, sheer exhilaration coursing through him. Soon they reached the hill, and with a yelp Draco skidded onto the grass, tumbling off of his broom in front of Harry, who let out an echoing sound of alarm and tried in vain to avoid the blond, but to no avail. He slammed into Draco, and they tumbled a few feet before they finally stopped.

Harry was lying on top of Draco, the breath knocked from his body. He could feel Draco’s steady heartbeat under his chest, and hear his soft, shallow breaths. Harry pushed himself upright, his arms on either side of Draco, and they locked eyes. There was still something joyous and free in Draco’s grey eyes, and his blond hair was windswept and irresistibly messy. His lips were parted, and they were looking at each other, and before Harry knew what was happening he had leaned forward and kissed him.

Their lips were pressed together, at first tentatively, softly, but then Draco let out a soft whimper and his hands came up to thread through Harry’s hair, pulling him closer. Harry could barely think straight, what with the other boy so close, and the fact that they were kissing-

Draco’s lips parted and Harry ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He still tasted like mint, just like in his dream. Draco was arching up off the the ground, pressing against him, and Harry could still feel Draco’s heartbeat, reverberating through his own chest.

Draco’s lips were ever so soft as they moved against Harry’s, and their tongues were touching, and dancing around each other, and Harry’s head was filled with a pleasant dizziness, and his skin tingled where Draco’s hands touched him, pulled him closer, wandering over his shoulders and his neck and through his hair. It was intoxicating, like a drug, and Harry wondered woozily why they hadn’t done this sooner, and sparks were flying like the stars had been earlier behind Harry’s closed eyes-

Draco pushed at his chest a little, and Harry pulled back. He was panting slightly, they both were, Harry could see Draco underneath of him, hair messy and cheeks flushed and lips parted, drawing in breath after breath. He looked bloody gorgeous.

“Harry,” said Draco, his eyes still wide. “We- we can’t do this.”

It was like he was a balloon, but someone had popped his swelling emotions and now he was deflating, coming back down to earth as Draco’s words registered in his head. _He doesn’t want to? I thought- I thought-_

“I thought you liked me. Liked me back,” said Harry, getting off of Draco. His lips were still tingling. Draco looked at him imploringly.

“I do-” he let out a shaky laugh- “Merlin, I do like you. A lot. It’s just, we can’t.” he repeated, and Harry tilted his head a little, still surprised. Draco had seemed into it, the kissing, he’d been as enthusiastic as Harry had. And then he’d said no, but then he said he liked Harry, and Harry was confused as fuck-

“Why?” he asked quietly, staring at the blond. Draco shook his head, turning away from Harry.

“You don’t understand,” he said, and Harry grabbed Draco’s hand, gently, and the other boy turned startled eyes up to meet his.

“Then help me to,” replied Harry, pouring all of his jumbled emotions into his voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He wanted to understand, wanted to know why Draco was retreating. Why he said this couldn’t work.

Draco let out another broken, quiet laugh, and drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated. “I- I’m Draco fucking Malfoy, I’m an ex-Death Eater. You’re Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World-”

“I told you I don’t care about that! You’re not that person, Draco, you never were!” exclaimed Harry, his thumb stroking Draco’s hand, trying to comfort him. I hate that he’s   
worried about this still. Not just because I want to be with him, but because I want him to be happy. The way he deserves to be.

“But- Harry, the things I’ve done, I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve this, I shouldn’t be happy, I’m a horrible person-”

“You are not a horrible person.” said Harry fiercely. “And you deserve to be happy just as much as I do!” He leaned forward, cupping Draco’s face gently within his hands. “I want to be with you.”

“But people will talk, they won’t like it, I don’t want you to deal with that because of me-” protested Draco weakly, and Harry could almost see the jumble of thoughts and emotions behind his eyes, a jumble that mirrored his own.

“I don’t give a damn what other people think, Draco!” Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Draco’s wide grey ones. “If you like me, and I like you, then that’s all that matters. Forget everyone else.”

….

Draco stared up at Harry, his words echoing in his head.

_You deserve to be happy. Not a horrible person. I want to be with you._

Draco could have sobbed in frustration. He was so conflicted, because he wanted to be with Harry, the want was swelling up in a wave inside of him. The kiss had been amazing. Draco had never kissed anyone like that, never felt so out of control and passionate and filled with desire. But he- his past was rising up over his shoulder, reminding him of all the horrible things he’d done, telling him he didn’t deserve this. Deserve Harry.

But Merlin, he was filled to bursting with hope and joy, too. Because Harry liked him, Harry had gone stargazing with him, Harry had kissed him. It was so much more, so much better than Draco could’ve dared to dream of.

He was warring with himself, and it was tearing him apart.

Harry was still watching him intensely, his bright green eyes latching onto Draco. It felt like- like Draco was drowning in a sea of turmoil, and Harry was there, waiting to save him.

“You are not your past, Draco. You are not a bad person. You may have done bad things, made bad decisions, but that does not make you a bad person. You deserve a life as much as I do.” said Harry firmly, and it felt like he was gazing into Draco’s soul.

Draco’s mouth parted, he wanted to say more, show Harry why this was such a bad idea, but all of his thoughts were slipping away when faced with Harry’s words. The other boy was still cupping Draco’s face gently, reverently, and Draco had never felt like this before.

_You deserve a life as much as I do._

So Draco made his decision. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s, knocking him onto his back. Draco kissed him fiercely, straddling him as Harry’s hands moved from his face to his back, running up and down in long, sweeping strokes that set Draco on fire. Harry’s tongue parted Draco’s lips, and with a soft gasp Draco opened his mouth to him.

Harry was kissing him back just as wildly, and suddenly Harry grasped Draco’s shoulders, his fingers curling, and in one smooth motion flipped them over so that Harry was on top of Draco. Draco panted, and Harry broke away and pressed kisses down his jaw, his neck, his hands slipping under Draco’s shirt. Draco yelped, and Harry’s eyes met his again, his gaze intense and rakish and wonderful.

“Y-your hands are cold,” stuttered Draco breathlessly. Harry’s body pressed him down into the ground, and Harry grinned at him lazily.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding not sorry at all, before continuing his kisses down Draco’s neck, his hands exploring Draco’s stomach, his chest. Harry sucked a tender spot on Draco’s throat, before licking down his neck, and Draco let out a small sigh. Merlin, I could die from this, thought Draco, his head spinning as he lay there, almost prone, unable to move, not wanting anything except for Harry to never stop doing what he was doing. His own hands were wandering instinctively across Harry’s back, sliding across his warm skin, feeling the muscles shift on Harry’s back.

Harry pulled back and looked at him for a moment, his hands still caressing Draco’s skin. He whispered something in a wondrous tone, but it was a soft, sibilant noise. A smooth hissing, the whispers of which seemed to wrap around Draco, and he shivered, entranced. _He’s speaking Parseltongue, isn’t he…_

_It’s wonderful. Wonderful when he does it._

Harry shifted their positions, so they were sitting up and facing one another, Draco straddling Harry. Draco leaned forward and grabbed Harry’s tie, pulling him close again, his fingers threading through Harry’s hair as they kissed again. As it went on, became frenzied again, Harry began to take control, his tongue sweeping through Draco’s mouth in a way that left him breathless. A small, desperate sound came out of him, and Harry’s fingers tightened around Draco’s hips as Draco shivered and arched against him, his hands clutching at Harry’s back.

Harry broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Draco’s so that they almost shared breaths. His hands were still stroking slowly up and down Draco’s sides, making his brain go fuzzy.

“Je t'aime. Dieu je t'aime,” said Draco softly. _I love you. God, I love you._ He'd wanted to tell him for a while now, and though telling him in a language he could understand was daunting, telling him in french still felt special. The words seemed to ignite something in Harry, though Draco knew he didn’t understand. They kissed again, and the only thought that remained in Draco’s mind were those words, those words he had spoken. Because they were true, he did. Oh, how he loved Harry.

Twenty minutes later, they were lying on the blanket together, after their kissing session. Draco was tucked up against Harry, Harry’s arm curling around him, their legs tangling together some. The meteor shower was petering out above them, and they watched it in a comfortable silence.

Harry sat up slowly, giving Draco time to adjust and get into a comfortable position, before reaching for a chocolate and feeding it to Draco. Draco rolled his eyes, but obligingly opened his mouth.

“Is this why you were nervous earlier?” asked Draco conversationally. Harry flushed.

“Maybe.” he replied nonchalantly.

“Aw, cute.” said Draco, smirking. They lapsed back into an easy silence.

“Are we dating?” asked Harry suddenly. Draco blinked.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean, yeah. I want to date you. Be with you. If that’s what you want.” replied Harry, some slight uncertainty in his voice, and Draco smiled at him.

“Alright.” he said, for once in his life completely sure of something. Yes, he wanted to be with Harry. Harry was the one he loved, the person that kept him going, that had helped him and listened to him and understood him and forgiven him. The person that had shown him a better life.

“Yeah?” asked Harry, a smile beginning to curve his lips.

“Yes, you tosser.” responded Draco, somewhat snidely. He leaned forward, taking off Harry’s glasses, and kissed Harry once more, open mouthed and softly, sweetly. He nipped Harry’s bottom lip gently, winding his arms around Harry’s neck, and laughed into Harry’s mouth when Harry snarled and flipped them over again; his mouth descending on   
Draco’s in a fiery kiss that took his breath away and wiped all coherent thoughts from his head, heat pooling in his core.

This time Draco treated Harry to the same thing he’d done; he licked and kissed his way down Harry’s neck, his hands trailing down Harry’s arms. Harry tilted his head back, his own hands on Draco’s hips. When Harry sighed, Draco could feel the vibrations, and that alone was enough to curl his toes.

Suddenly Harry put a hand under Draco’s chin and brought his lips to Draco’s for a chaste, slow kiss. They parted, and Draco stared at him indignantly.

“Well? Fucking kiss me like you mean it, Potter.” he demanded, and Harry grinned wickedly before doing just that.

….

Harry strolled down the hill with Draco, taking immense pleasure in the fact that they were holding hands, Harry’s fingers curling around Draco’s. It might seem very plain, compared to all the kissing they’d just done, but it was something couples did, wasn’t it? It made Harry feel warm inside, at the thought. _I’m dating Draco Malfoy. I have a boyfriend._

He’d been so glad when Draco had kissed him again. Glad that he’d accepted Harry’s silent offer, yes, but also that Draco was letting himself have the life he should. Maybe letting go of the past. Not fully, but enough to live life in the moment, like Harry had slowly been trying to do as his nightmares had ceased.

“I liked your Parseltongue,” said Draco suddenly, and Harry, glazing over at him in surprise, saw a blush on his cheeks. Harry smiled, a small tinge of relief coursing through him.

“Yeah. Sometimes I don’t mean to speak it, it just...happens.” Harry explained, and Draco nodded.

He’d been so full of relief and joy and losing himself within the kiss that when he’d pulled back and seen Draco beneath him, looking so beautiful, he’d spoken in Parseltongue accidentally. _I love you. You look beautiful. I love you._ That’s what he’d said, how he’d felt. How he still felt. And when Draco had spoken French to him, he’d bloody loved it, loved the sound of the language. Loved that it was Draco’s voice in his ear.

“So, good early Christmas present?” asked Harry, swinging their joined hands. Draco looked at him, a spark of amusement glimmering in his eyes. He stilled the motion of their clasped hands with a long-suffering sigh, and Harry snickered.

“Yes, Harry.” Draco replied, leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder as they walked. “Be very proud of yourself. Passed the class with full marks.” he continued airily, and Harry chuckled as they entered the school. “Do you think the ball’s over yet?” he wondered aloud.

“Probably not. The Yule Ball went on for ages.” said Harry with a grimace, and Draco laughed. Harry was still struck with a little sensation of awe every time Draco laughed, because it was so surreal that Harry had caused him to do that. Make him happy.

“You really hated that, didn’t you?” Draco replied, smirking. Harry shook his head with a sigh and they turned a corner towards the ballroom, the faint sounds of music beginning to reach Harry’s ears.

“Yeah, I guess. I was hopeless back then.”

“Yeah, you were.” agreed Draco, and Harry snorted. “Oh Merlin, here we go,” moaned Draco as they spotted Daphne rushing towards them, her eyes locked on their clasped hands. Harry felt Draco’s head fall onto his shoulder again. “Where’s the Invisibility Cloak when you need it?” Draco asked plaintively, and Harry sniggered.

“So I take it the stargazing went well?” said Daphne, standing in front of them. Harry could see Camille and Amelie hot on her trail, getting closer to them. Draco’s mouth opened slightly.

“You- how did you-” he spluttered, and Daphne and Harry exchanged an amused glance.

“She, er, kind of helped me along.” admitted Harry, and Draco raised his eyebrows.

“You’re welcome,” declared Daphne smugly. “So- so-” Her eyes darted between them, and the two French girls hurried up behind her.

“So what?” asked Draco, with an air of innocence that fooled no one. Harry glanced at him, smiling, and a wave of satisfaction went through him when he saw Draco had looked over at him too.

“So- are you together?” burst out Daphne, and Camille and Amelie’s mouths dropped, their eyes lighting with excitement. Harry smirked, before turning to Draco and tipping his   
chin up, pressing a light kiss to his lips, still holding Draco’s hand.

The girls positively shrieked, and Harry drew back from Draco, laughing, but secretly pleased at the tinge of pink on Draco’s cheeks.

“Yes, we are.” Draco said, shaking his head at Harry and the girls. “Buggers.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” exclaimed Camille delightedly, and Draco smirked.

“Because it just happened, nosy.” he retorted, his hand tightening on Harry’s. Amelie butted into the conversation.

“Oh, is that why you left the ball?” she said, and Harry nodded, and she squealed. _This is hilarious,_ he thought. _They’re almost more excited than I am._

Draco coughed a little, clearly out of his element when faced with three hyped up females talking about relationships. Harry snorted. Honestly, he felt the same way.

“We’ll be back,” he said with a quick smile, before he and Draco turned round and walked out of the ballroom. Draco visibly deflated once they were in a quiet hallway.

“Damn, they talk a lot.” he said, but his tone was fond. Harry found a window seat overlooking the gardens and sat in it, and Draco huffed.

“Move over, you prat,” he ordered, then squeaked when Harry tugged him down onto his lap, leaning against the wall. “Potter!” Harry chuckled, his arms wrapped securely around Draco’s waist, the blond sitting between Harry’s legs, his back against Harry’s chest.

“Should we put this in a letter back to Hermione and Ron, or wait?” said Harry, laughing a little as Ron’s shocked expression seemed to swim in front of him, and Hermione’s as well. Although she would probably be a little less surprised.

Draco finally relaxed and leaned back against him, the crown of his head just under Harry’s chin. “Definitely wait,” he decided. “I want to see their faces.” Harry grinned.

“Yeah, me too.” he said. Suddenly Draco groaned.

“Oh, Merlin,” he said, covering his face.

“What?” Harry replied curiously.

“Pansy and Blaise.” explained Draco, lacing his fingers through Harry’s.

“That’ll be fun to see,” chuckled Harry. He was warm, from Draco laying on him, and surprisingly comfortable considering he was leaning against a wall in a window seat.

“For you, maybe,” grumbled Draco. “Lord save me from Pansy and her melodrama.” He shook his head and sighed as Harry laughed.

“We can take this as slow as you want. It’s up to you who we tell, and when.” said Harry, and Draco made a small, sleepy sound of agreement.

They stayed like that for a long while, sitting in a comfortable silence as Harry looked out the window, Draco’s comforting presence in front of him. The gardens were quiet, starlit, and it looked as though the meteor shower had finally stopped. The moon was a glowing crescent in the sky, it’s soft white light washing over the grounds. Harry smiled at the memory of the shooting stars. It had been beautiful.

He turned his attention back to Draco, and a strange, warm feeling coursed through him when he realized Draco had fallen asleep. His breathing was deep and slow, and every now and then he let a small, snuffling sigh. It was adorable.

Harry was amazed that Draco trusted him like this, even after they’d officially started dating earlier. Trusted him enough to fall asleep on him. Especially since it was Draco. Harry sighed contentedly, moving his arms gently to better support the blond.

It was love, decided Harry. That was what he was feeling. Love, awe, the need to protect this amazing thing that had happened to him.

Harry thought back on his eighth year, revisiting all of the events that had happened to bring them together like this, looking for little clues. Now that he knew Draco had liked him, for a while, it was a little easier to look back and spot hints from the Slytherin that he’d missed. To see their too-long stares, things they’d done together, and conversations in a different light. Like carrying Draco when he’d had a broken ankle, or all of their Seeker’s games. Like stargazing in the clearing, and earlier tonight as well. Even that night at Riley’s, when Harry had first realized what he felt for Draco. It all led back to where they were now.

Draco stirred a little against his chest, and turned around so he was facing Harry.

“I fell asleep?” he asked, a small note of trepidation in his voice, and Harry smiled.

“Yeah, you did. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Sorry.” Draco said quietly.

“Don’t be sorry. It was nice.” reassured Harry, and Draco smiled, some relief woven throughout his expression, before kissing Harry again.

“We should get back to our dorm,” said Draco, gazing out the window at the dark sky.

“Yeah.” agreed Harry, standing up. They walked back to their dorm room, shoulders brushing, fingers intertwined between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much again for all the love.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! TW, brief mention of self-harm.

Draco woke up slowly, blinking through his fuzzy vision. _It all feels like a dream…_

But then someone was pressing kisses to his neck, and Draco smiled, rolling over to see Harry, grinning.

“Good morning,” he said, poker-faced, and Draco smirked as he sat up.

“Morning.” he replied, wrinkling his nose as Harry leaned in to kiss in. “Harry, I haven’t brushed my teeth, don’t kiss me yet.” he complained weakly, but his hands were reaching forward of their own instinct and threading with Harry’s hair. Damn. When I’m around him, I just lose every bit of self control. It’s insane.

“You still taste like mint.” said Harry, now kissing and sucking a tender spot on Draco’s neck, sending pleasant tingles up and down his spine, making his brain go fuzzy.

“Yes, but-” Draco sighed, his head tilted back, eyes closing, before he remembered what he was trying to say. “Merlin, Harry, stop it, I can’t concentrate,” he protested, and Harry laughed, the sound low and sexy, sending a flush to Draco’s cheeks.

“That’s not a bad thing,” commented Harry, but he sat back and watched Draco, his green eyes following his every motion.

“Bugger off, Potter,” snapped Draco, and Harry chuckled again. “If you go get me coffee,” he added, “I’ll let you kiss me as long as you want later.” Harry sent him a grin, and Draco had to resist the urge to jump on him and just snog already. _Composure, Draco._

“Brilliant,” Harry said, and left the dorm room. Draco sighed into the empty space, shaking his head before changing out of his pajamas and into robes and brushing his teeth.

It was December 24, Sunday, two days since the Crystal Ball, although that’s not what Draco remembered that day for. He remembered it because that was the day Harry had brought him up to that hill to stargaze, and they’d kissed. Started dating.

It had been more than Draco could’ve ever dreamed of, and yesterday morning, the day after, he’d woken up half thinking it had all been a very vivid dream, but then he’d realized it was indeed his reality when Harry had kissed him good morning.

They’d spent yesterday mostly in their room, snogging and talking in equal amounts. It was still very new, this thing between them, and Draco was being as careful as he could to not fuck up. But not doing that had been easier than he’d expected. It was almost exactly how they used to behave around each other, which Draco supposed made sense since they’d both liked one another for a little while. But they still bickered and hung out. Just now there was a lot of snogging involved, which had made it difficult to concentrate on mundane things like homework.

Draco was still in a sort of happy daze, coasting on a high. Because Harry Potter liked him, was his goddamned boyfriend. It was surreal. And amazing. And Draco was the happiest he’d ever been.

He walked out of the bathroom, finally dressed, to find Harry sitting in the armchair with two cups of coffee sitting on one of the bedside tables. Harry held out a hand and when Draco took it, pulled him down next to him on the armchair. It was not made for two people, and Draco’s legs were over Harry’s thighs while their shoulders pressed together. But it worked. They worked. And that blew Draco’s mind.

“This chair is too small.” complained Draco half-heartedly as he reached for his coffee.

“So move, then.” replied Harry, smirking, his arm over Draco’s shoulders.

“No.” shot back Draco snidely. “I will not.” Harry laughed. “Prat.” Draco added.

“You’re one to talk.” said Harry with amusement, and Draco scoffed. He set down his coffee and pressed his lips to Harry’s, smirking against his mouth when Harry pulled him onto his lap. Draco broke away and began kissing the sensitive spot he’d found yesterday, below Harry’s ear, and Harry made a noise low in his throat and forced Draco’s face back up to his, kissing him deeply.

Thirty minutes later they were sprawled on Harry’s bed, writing a letter to Weasley and Hermione. Draco was on his stomach, Harry was sitting up with his legs tucked underneath him.

“...had a ball two days ago, like the Yule Ball except more fancy.” Draco read aloud as he scribbled with a quill, Harry next to him. “Nothing more has happened with the Animagus Club, it’s turned out to be a bit of a laugh, all we do is read about the process. What else?” Draco added, looking at Harry. They were trying to think of things to write about that didn’t have to do with them starting to date.

“Write about the Patronus practice we’ve been doing?” offered Harry, raking a hand through his hair. Draco grimaced.

“Yeah,” he said unenthusiastically, writing it down. Harry was tracing lines on Draco’s back as he wrote the letter, but he paused.

“You’ll get it, Draco. It takes time.” Harry said, obviously knowing what Draco was frustrated at. Draco huffed but didn’t say anything. He was angry with himself for having such a hard time with the Patronus Charm, especially since their mid-year exams were in a week and he knew for a fact that Patronuses were on there.

“I think the letter’s long enough,” he declared, adding a quick We miss you, Merry Christmas to the end, and signed his name, passing the parchment and quill over to Harry so he could sign also.

“Brilliant. I’ll send it off today, with our presents for them.” Harry replied, accepting Draco’s change of subject, and setting the letter on his bedside table. Draco made a mental note to get his presents for Hermione and Weasley separate from the others he had wrapped and needed to send off. They’d spent a rather enjoyable hour or two yesterday wrapping and comparing presents for their mutual friends, although Draco’d had a job wrapping Harry’s presents with him nosing in and trying to see what they were.

He’d finished what he called a Healing Pendant, a small golden chain with a tiny stag pendant that he’d imbued with a Calming Spell, commonly used for patients with panic attacks or trauma. The spell simply helped them breath slower, and kept them, well, calm. He’d put it in a small white box, and wrapped that as well as the jumper and chocolates he’d bought. They might not measure up to what Harry had done for a Christmas present, but Draco thought he’d done a decent job.

“Let’s practice later today, alright?” said Harry, and Draco met his gaze slightly reluctantly.

“It’s a waste of time,” he said flatly, turning his quill between his fingers. Draco knew he was frustrated and sore that he hadn’t gotten the spell down yet, and tried not take it out on Harry. Harry sighed.

“No it’s not, Draco. Last time you were really close.” he said, his voice patient.

“I passed out.” Draco snapped curtly, before exhaling and closing his eyes. Get a grip. “Sorry.” Harry leaned down and kissed him again, briefly, before pulling back. “But yeah,   
sure, practice.” Draco continued, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “Maybe that’ll be my extra Christmas present, getting my Patronus.”

“I was your extra Christmas present,” teased Harry, and Draco smacked Harry’s leg. Harry laughed.

“Whatever, Potter.” said Draco, rolling his eyes and getting up. But he smiled when Harry took hold of his hand and pulled him back down for another kiss.

….

Harry was next to Draco as they stood outside in a clear section of the grounds, a chill permeating the air. The sky was a clear, deep blue, not a cloud in sight. Most of the trees and bushes had dropped their leaves, their bare branches making patterns against the sky and the ground.

“Okay, close your eyes. The only thing on your mind should be the memory you’ve selected. The happiest you’ve ever felt, or the strongest positive feelings you’ve felt.” Harry instructed. Draco nodded slightly, his wand raised in a steady hand, lips slightly parted. Harry resisted the urge to kiss him again and kept talking.

“Do you have one?” he asked, and Draco smiled very slightly.

“Yes.” he replied, and Harry wondered absentmindedly what he was thinking of.

“Alright. You know what to do.” Harry declared, and watched Draco inhaled calmly as he opened his eyes.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said, flourishing his wand. The silver vapor that emerged was faint, and with a sound of annoyance Draco cut it off. “Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum!” he said fiercely, and suddenly Harry knew. It was going to work this time.

There was an immense whooshing noise and the silvery, transparent light swirled together, combining to form a spectral, silver winged horse, reiring back in the air, hooves flying. It’s huge, bigger than my stag, Harry thought in awe, watching it gallop in the air, mane flying in the wind before it faded away.

Harry glanced back at Draco, who was staring at the place where his Patronus had been with an expression of wonder. Harry jogged over to him, an exuberant grin on his face.

“You did it, Draco! That was really good!” he exclaimed, and Draco met his eyes.

“I did it,” he repeated, still sounding awed.

“What was that, though?” asked Harry curiously. “What’s the name for a winged horse?”

“It was an Abraxan,” explained Draco, lowering his wand. “Remember, they pulled Beauxbatons carriage when they came to Hogwarts in fourth year?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, remembering the giant, stately Abraxans flying through the air, the powder-blue carriage careening wildly after them. “Well, that was a really good Patronus, Draco.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” replied the blond, smiling self-consciously.

“You just needed me as a teacher,” said Harry, kissing Draco quickly, and Draco smirked.

“Oh, of course. Is that why you’re still failing Potions? Because you need me as a teacher?” teased Draco, laughing, and Harry flushed. True, he was still not doing that well in Potions, even though he’d been under the instruction of four different teachers.

“Shove off, Draco.” replied Harry, knocking his shoulder into Draco’s. “But hey- really. You did good.”

“Of course I did.” said Draco pompously. “I always do.” Harry laughed and they headed back up to the school for lunch.

“What were you thinking of?” Harry asked. “Not that you have to say, I mean-”

Draco laughed and cut him off. “No, it’s alright. Actually, I was thinking of- of you. Us.” he said, for the first time sounding shy.

Harry kissed him again, trying to express how he felt at that. It was just- it made Harry feel like he was flying, soaring. The memory of him had gotten Draco his Patronus. Draco was happy with him. And being around him made Harry feel like the most special person in the world.  
They entered the dining hall. “Oh, there they are! Hey, lovebirds!” called Daphne from their table, and Draco sighed.

“Bold of you, Daphne. Considering you two,” Draco shot back, nodding at Daphne and Simon, who were sitting close to each other, hands brushing. They blushed, and Draco looked over at Harry with a triumphant smile. Harry snorted.

“Is that the Slytherin way to greet someone?” he asked. “I would not have survived that.”

“No, it’s not, and no, you would not have,” responded Draco promptly as they sat down, and Harry hit his shoulder jokingly.

“I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas,” Harry said, changing the subject. I wonder what he got me…

“Yeah.” replied Draco. “After that we only have a month left.”

“Yeah,” said Harry vaguely, staring at the way Draco’s hair glowed in the sunlight from the windows. He was so beautiful it took Harry’s breath away.

Draco’s grey eyes met his inquisitively, and Harry coughed, knowing he’d been caught staring again. Draco smirked, clearly pleased, and his hand slipped into Harry’s under the table, the motion already familiar, comforting. Harry laced his fingers through Draco’s, brushing his thumb over Draco’s hand slowly, enjoying the look of slight exasperation Draco sent him as the blond talked to Camille, across the table from them.

Harry merely smirked back, and for the rest of lunch decided to simply indulge for once and let himself watch Draco for as long as he wanted. Watch his blond hair, messier than normal from the December wind. His smooth, soft skin, that Harry’d touched and kissed. His striking grey eyes, his high cheekbones, sharp jawline. Full, faintly pink lips that Harry so enjoyed kissing. Draco glanced at him again.

“Stop it,” he hissed, and Harry smirked.

“What?” he asked innocently, and Draco’s hand tightened on his.

“Stop watching me.” Draco insisted, and Harry noticed a blush rising in his pale cheeks. He grinned.

“Sorry.” he replied, not at all sorry, but satisfied with the way he’d made Draco blush. Draco glared at him again, before turning his attention away and back to Camille.

As soon as they left lunch and were inside their dorm Draco positively pounced on him, pulling Harry close with a quiet desperation and kissing him, his hands raking through Harry’s hair. Harry responded equally as enthusiastically. This was all he’d been thinking about for the past hour, and it was so much better in real life than in his head.  
Draco whimpered, and Harry pressed him against the wall, his tongue flicking lazily over Draco’s lower lip. _Merlin, I could stay here forever,_ thought Harry, then he smirked a little. _Kissing Draco Malfoy. My seventeen year old self would’ve thought I was completely mad for doing this._

“What are you thinking about?” murmured Draco, his hands looped over Harry’s neck.

“Just how crazy my younger self would’ve thought me right now.” Harry commented absentmindedly, most of his brain preoccupied with watching the way Draco’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“You are crazy, Potter.” teased Draco. “I mean, you-” Harry shut him up with another kiss. I’ll never get tired of this, he thought dazedly. But soon enough he wasn’t thinking at all, he was just lost in kissing Draco.

....

Two days later, Draco woke up to a pillow thrown at his face.

“Fuck off,” he said sleepily, rolling back over and tucking the extra pillow under his head, but Harry’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Draco, wake up, don’t you want to open presents?”

“You’re like a child,” muttered Draco into his pillow. “A hyper child. No wonder I always used to make fun of you.”

“You weren’t the only one,” said Harry amusedly, and Draco huffed.

“That’s my point.” he declared, closing his eyes again. “And no, I don’t want to open presents yet. Christmas will still be here when I wake up later.” he added. “I’m not some five year old jumping around at the crack of dawn, screaming about presents. Unlike some people.”

“You’re no fun.” responded Harry, the suggestion of a pout in his voice.

“I’d rather be civilized than fun, Harry.” Draco said primly, sitting up and facing the Gryffindor, then frowning suddenly. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Talking to me when I was trying to go back to sleep?” Harry smiled devilishly, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Maybe,” Harry replied, drawing out the syllables. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wrapped boxes and packages scattered haphazardly around him. Draco sighed. Might as well get up all the way, now that he was fully awake. And he was curious to see what he’d gotten.

“Alright, fine,” Draco relented, peering over the end of his bed to see his own pile of presents and grabbing the top few.

The next few minutes were filled with the crinkling sound of wrapping paper being torn and tossed away, and various clunking noises.

“Hermione got me another homework planner, Merlin.” exclaimed Harry, dismay in his voice, and Draco snickered.

“Well, in her defense, we do have our NEWT exams this year,” he pointed out, and alarmed comprehension dawned on Harry’s face.

“How did I forget about that?” exclaimed Harry. “We have more fucking tests. Always the tests. The OWL testing was bad enough.”

“Didn’t you faint then, too?” prodded Draco, still sniggering. Harry gave him a look and sighed deeply.

“Yeah, during the History of Magic exam. Can you really blame me, though?”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s quite easy, you know,” said Draco airily.

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, chucking a ball of wadded-up wrapping paper at him.

Draco laughed, catching the paper in one hand deftly and tossing it aside. I hope the presents we sent off got there in time, he thought. They’d sent their presents for Weasley and Hermione back with the letter, and then enlisted other owls to carry other presents back to London the other day. He’d received most of his presents from his friends back at Hogwarts, and from his mother, the day before, so he could open them today.

“Why is yours so neat?” chortled Harry, holding up the immaculately wrapped package.

“What, are you surprised?” retorted Draco, opening his present from Pansy to find an expensive cologne that he liked and a note from her ordering him to write back more often. He snorted, and Harry looked over.

“Is that cologne?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. She always gets me cologne. And I always get her perfume for her birthday.” explained Draco, smiling reminiscently. “I remember one time she was really mad at me so she filled the cologne bottle with Stinksap and charmed it to explode as soon as I tried to use it. It was a horrible mess.” Harry laughed, tearing open Draco’s present to him.

“Oh, you got me one of those sweaters you have!”

“You always take mine. I also got you chocolates, because you steal those too.”

“And a necklace?” said Harry, smiling slightly bemusedly. Draco grinned, unfolding his long legs and flopping down onto Harry’s bed next to him.

“It’s not a necklace. Well, it is, but not really. It’s imbued with a Calming Charm. Whenever you get panic attacks, just hold it and it’ll activate the charm and help you calm down.” explained Draco somewhat hesitantly, watching Harry’s reaction carefully. He was rewarded with a smile, small at first but growing delightly.

“That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks, Draco.” he exclaimed, kissing Draco quickly.

 _Thank Merlin he likes it. And thank Merlin I finished it in time,_ thought Draco with relief.

Harry dropped the thin chain over his head and it disappeared under his shirt. Draco smiled at him. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. It was like he couldn’t stop grinning at Harry, couldn’t stop watching him.

They went down to breakfast, sitting down with Daphne (sitting cozily next to Simon), Camille (wearing the new sweater Draco had gotten her with a smug expression on her face), and Amelie (waggling her eyebrows at Draco and Harry suggestively). Draco sighed and rolled his eyes at Amelie, snagging a flaky croissant from the middle of the table.

“Merry Christmas,” said Camille, grinning. “Thanks for the sweater, Draco.” He smirked.

“Merry Christmas to you, too. And thanks for the Healing book and food,” Draco replied. She’d gotten him a book on Healing spells and procedures from other countries, which had been really interesting to flip through. There had been lots of remedies he’d never heard of, and part of him was itching to try brewing them or casting them.

“Merry Christmas,” exclaimed Daphne, knocking her shoulder into Draco’s. He smirked and echoed it back to her, glad to see the necklace he’d bought her peeking above her shirt collar.

They spent an enjoyable Christmas morning with all of their friends, holed up in Camille and Amelie’s dorm, comparing presents and talking exuberantly.

Camille was perched on her bed, Daphne and Amelie on either side. Simon was lounging in an armchair nearby, Harry was sitting in another chair, and Draco was sitting on the floor, in between Harry’s legs. Harry’s fingers were absentmindedly playing with Draco’s hair, something that Draco thought felt quite nice, though he wouldn’t ever tell Harry that. It was warm and cozy inside the dorm room, and Draco was pleasantly comfortable.

“So tell me, Harry,” declared Camille, swinging her legs back and forth. “Is Draco as clingy as we figured?” Draco’s mouth dropped in outrage and he heard Harry chuckled above him.

“Well… yeah.” replied Harry, and Draco twisted around.

“That’s a lie, Potter,” he exclaimed indignantly.

“Last night you were using me as a pillow, then told me to go get you a blanket, then wouldn’t let me go get you one because I would’ve had to leave you for a second.” pointed out Harry, and the girls cackled. Draco flushed.

“Lies,” Draco muttered under his breath, and Daphne bounded over to perch on the arm of the chair Harry was sitting in.

“I’m going to teach you how to braid Draco’s hair,” she announced and Draco twisted around again to glare at her.

“You will not,” he insisted, but Harry grinned.

“Please do, his hair does seem long enough.” Harry replied, and Daphne smiled triumphantly at Draco. Merlin. Draco sighed heavily and turned back around, resigned to his fate. His hair wasn’t even that long. It was like he’d had it in fourth year, but it wasn’t long.

“Don’t you dare tangle my hair, Potter,” he warned, unable to stop a smile from curving his lips, and Harry laughed.

….

Harry and Draco and their friends left for lunch, before returning to Camille’s dorm. Harry, under Daphne’s tutelage, had given Draco two slightly sloppy French braids. Draco had grumbled and complained about the ends sticking up everywhere, but had left the braids in, which filled Harry with a warm feeling that made him rather smiley at lunch, something that Draco teased him about.

All in all it had been a good Christmas morning, thought Harry. He’d been apprehensive about spending his holidays away from Hogwarts or the Weasley’s, since he always spent Christmas at one or the other, but he was pleasantly surprised and glad that he was enjoying today quite as much as he had enjoyed Christmas’s of the past.

“I wish it would snow,” commented Daphne wistfully, sitting by the window and gazing out of it. Camille looked up from where she’d been practicing a charm, Amelie next to her.

“Yeah, it would be wonderful if it snowed.” she agreed. Harry nodded, sitting in the armchair again, Draco laying on the floor, reading that book he’d gotten from Camille. Simon was out getting Daphne hot chocolate from the dining hall. Camille smirked and joined Draco on the floor.

Camille asked Draco something in French with a mischievous grin, and Draco smirked before replying, also in French. Amelie snickered, and they all glanced at Harry. Talking in French again, looking at him, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were talking about.

“What?” asked Harry curiously, glancing at Draco, who was staring at the floor, his cheeks flushed.

“Nothing,” replied Draco, glaring at the two girls sitting on either side of him. Harry grinned, curious to know what had made Draco embarrassed.

“Camille asked if you were a good kisser,” Amelie said, and Draco groaned, dropping his head to the floor amongst everyone else’s laughter.

“What did he say?” asked Daphne, coming over from the window. Draco sat up and stared Amelie down, but she kept going anyway.

“He said Harry was decent, but then he changed his mind and said he was great at it,” Amelie revealed, obviously enjoying herself, and Daphne cackled. Now it was Harry’s turn to blush. Even as some part of him was smugly satisfied at Draco’s words.

“Whatever,” muttered Draco, standing up, still with a pink tinge in his cheeks, and Harry tugged him down onto the chair so he was basically in Harry’s lap. “Potter!” Harry laughed.

“Don’t act like you weren’t about to come over here anyway,” teased Harry, nuzzling Draco’s neck.

Draco didn’t say anything, but chose to keep what he probably saw as a dignified silence. But Harry saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, in the small smile that Harry adored.

Before they went down to dinner, Draco persuaded Harry to come back to their dorm with him, saying he wanted to drop off his book.

“You really needed me to come across the school with you to drop off your book,” said Harry, shaking his head. Draco glanced at him, and when he spoke there was a note of amusement in his voice.

“You didn’t exactly protest though, did you?” he said dryly, fiddling with the doorknob. He stepped inside, and Harry followed him. Really, he’d only come so they could snog in private.

Draco seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because when he’d tossed his book onto his bed he sauntered back to Harry, who was leaning against the closed dorm door. He wound his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulled him forward into another kiss. Harry could feel him smiling. They broke apart, but Draco stayed where he was.

“Hi.” said Harry, grinning. “Missed me?” Draco huffed but kissed him again. Harry pulled him closer, his head getting wonderfully light and dizzy, his focus solely on the boy in front of him. Draco pulled away after what seemed like an eternity. A perfect way to spend an eternity, thought Harry dizzily, his head spinning from exhilaration.

“Dinner,” said Draco breathlessly, his hands on Harry’s chest.

“Right,” replied Harry woozily, and they finally left and strolled down to the dining hall. The whole way there, the only thing on Harry’s mind was Draco, and how soon he could kiss him again. It was driving him wild.

When they entered, Harry noticed Daphne smirking at them, and when he glanced at Draco the blond was scowling at her. Harry smiled at this.

“Have fun?” asked Daphne airily, and Draco kicked her under the table. She chuckled.

Twenty minutes later they were talking about tattoos, Daphne having spotted Harry’s on his shoulder, like Draco had done all those weeks ago.

“...so Luna- you know Luna Lovegood-” he said. “She’s a girl from our school,” Harry added to the Beauxbatons students. “She did it for me. She did one for Draco, too.”

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo!” exclaimed Daphne. “Let me see!” Draco coughed.

“Oh,” he said awkwardly, glancing at Harry, who remembered too late that Draco’s tattoo was a little more, well, personal than his. For one thing, it was on his burn scar, which was still partly visible, and Harry knew he didn’t like to go around with that on show. And second, as far as Harry knew, he’d never shown it to anyone but Harry. “Maybe later.” he said, and Daphne seemed to catch his tone and merely nodded, turning her head to chat with Camille.

_Fuck._

“Sorry,” whispered Harry immediately in Draco’s ear. Draco looked up at him and Harry was relieved to see there was no anger or panic in his eyes. Harry still felt shitty about it, though. He knew how long it had taken Draco to open up to him, about anything.

“Don’t worry about it,” murmured Draco quietly, squeezing Harry’s hand reassuringly.

All through the rest of dinner, Harry pondered Draco’s tattoo absentmindedly. He remembered when he’d first seen it, it had taken his breath away. He’d been so glad that Draco had liked it. And the fact that it was based on Fawkes was, in Harry’s opinion, something really special.

Because Draco had seen Fawkes in that clearing, where they’d gone stargazing once. He’d said he went there a lot when he needed to be alone, and Harry had found one of the phoenix’s feathers lying in the grass. That was when Draco had clammed up, and when Harry had asked about Fawkes Draco had merely said he’d seen him the day before, in the clearing, but Harry had gotten the feeling Draco had been withholding something. Harry was still curious about that, now that he thought about it.

After dinner Harry and Draco were sequestered in their dorm. The sky was rapidly darkening to dusk outside as Harry watched, his arms wrapped around Draco, who was a warm and comforting presence in front of him.

“Where did you get this?” murmured Draco, his fingers grazing over the scar Harry had gotten from Umbridge in his fifth year. I must not tell lies.

“Umbridge,” responded Harry. “All those detentions I spent with her, she had this quill that wrote with your own blood.” Draco didn’t reply, but lifted Harry’s hand and kissed the scar gently, sending shivers down Harry’s spine.

“Draco,” said Harry softly. “I know you didn’t want to tell me this before, but what was it you wouldn’t tell me about that day in the clearing, the day we went stargazing?” Draco stiffened a little bit, his head dropping back onto Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me,” apologized Harry quietly, berating himself for prodding again. There was a heavy silence, but then to Harry’s slight surprise Draco replied.

“I couldn’t tell you then.” he said, in a whisper so quiet Harry had to strain to hear it. “But- I think I can now.” Harry gave him as much time as he needed, and after another pause Draco continued. He drew up his left sleeve, gazing at the vivid phoenix tattoo. “I was going to- to…to off myself.” he said, voice trembling, and a wave of realization washed over Harry. He kissed Draco’s neck, trying to comfort him, as he was shaking slightly in Harry’s arms.

Horror was prickling his skin, not because of it, but because Draco had felt so bad that he’d- he’d tried to do that. Harry hated the idea of Draco being so miserable. He also hated the idea of a world without him. Could not imagine it, nor wanted to.

He felt bad for bringing it up, for dragging those memories back through Draco’s head. But Draco gave a small sigh, settling back into Harry’s embrace.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, and Harry was relieved that he did sound alright.

“Thank you for telling me,” Harry murmured back softly, and Draco’s fingers laced through his in a silent reply. They sat like that, each taking comfort in the other, until the sky darkened to black and the stars began to glow.


	16. Chapter 16

“Potter, I am not going ice skating with you, you pretentious prat!” exclaimed Draco, casting an apprehensive look at the pair of white skates dangling from Harry’s fingers.

“Why not?” asked Harry, seemingly confused, and Draco rolled his eyes from where he was sitting at his desk finishing a Transfiguration essay. He set down his quill carefully before replying.

“Because,” said Draco, as though it was obvious. “I don’t ice skate. It’s- it’s-”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Well, no, but that’s beside the point-”

“Well than get off your whiny ass, Draco, because I am taking you ice skating.” ordered Harry, staring at him pointedly. Draco sighed.

It was December 31, New Year’s, and Harry had just burst into the previously quiet dorm room and announced that they- meaning Draco, Harry, and all their friends- were going ice skating on a nearby lake. And now here they were.

The past week had been decent, in Draco’s opinion. After a rather, well, emotional Christmas, Harry had been treating Draco very delicately, like if he said anything remotely insulting he thought Draco would go back to the horrible mental state he had been in a few months ago, which Draco found slightly insulting, although he knew Harry didn’t mean it like that. So a few days ago Draco had confronted him about it _(“I’m not made of glass, Harry, you can stop dancing around me like I’m going to shatter into a million woe-betide-me pieces!”)_ and Harry had sheepishly apologized. But now they were back to their normal.

He’d passed his Defense winter exams with good marks; having successfully summoned his Patronus twice before the exam, he’d managed it a third time, something he’d been quite pleased about.

“No,” Draco replied, sneering slightly, before turning back to his essay.

“Fine,” said Harry huffily, and Draco had a split second’s warning before Harry was kissing him. Draco’s lips parted, more out of shock than anything, but Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Draco’s mouth, his hands cupping Draco’s face. When they drew apart at last, panting, Draco was surprised to see that his hands had somehow found their way to Harry’s arms without him noticing. He flushed, and Harry grinned.

“Now will you come with me?” he said, fingers still wrapped around Draco’s waist. Draco took a steadying breath, as all common sense and self control had left him as soon as Harry’s lips had met his own. As usual.

“No,” Draco repeated stubbornly, if a bit breathlessly. “I will not.” Harry frowned.

“Come on,” he said, grasping Draco’s hand and tugging him up. Draco rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be led from the room, inwardly berating the stubbornness of Gryffindors. Particularly this Gryffindor. His boyfriend. Draco marveled at that statement, even now. It felt so foreign when it rolled off his tongue, but oddly familiar at the same time. It did have the added bonus of seeing Harry smile whenever he said it, so that was something.

“Oh, good, you got him to come out.” greeted Daphne when they reached the bank of the frozen lake on the grounds. Draco peered at the ice covering the lake.

“Is that even safe?” he asked apprehensively, toeing the edge of the ice.

“Yes, see? Camille and Amelie are already out there,” said Daphne, pointing to the two girls moving gracefully over the ice, farther out on the lake. Draco glanced at Harry, who was lacing up his skates.

“If I fall in, my mother will be furious with you,” he muttered sullenly, to Harry’s laughter, before plunking down next to him and putting on the skates. The ground was very cold, probably frozen, thought Draco as he pulled on the strings of the skates. He really wasn’t sure about this, but Harry didn’t seem too worried. Although perhaps that wasn’t the best indicator. Draco gave another heavy sigh before standing up cautiously, wobbling dangerously.

Harry held out a hand from where he was standing on the edge of the ice, and Draco grabbed it, clinging to him like a lifeline as he stepped on and immediately slipped. Draco yelped, his feet moving wildly for a steady surface. Harry was chuckling, and Draco glared at him when he managed to stand, his arms held out wide in the hopes he would stay balanced.

“This is not fun- FUCK- Potter,” said Draco, cursing when his foot slipped and he fell onto the ice, a cold chill seeping through his clothes. He stood up slowly, wincing at the cold and his banged knees.

“Wasn’t this invented by Muggles? Who wants to slide around on ice, anyway? Not me,” he muttered. Harry was grinning, but he held out his hand again and Draco wrinkled his nose at the gesture.

“It’s not so bad,” Harry replied, moving easily over the ice, away from Draco and then back, his black hair scruffy.

“Yeah, for you,” Draco shot back. “Is this your one skill, then? Ice skating? Seems a bit depressing to me.” Harry raised his eyebrows, seemingly amused.

“Bit tetchy, Draco?” he teased, his green eyes sparkling. Draco narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms with a huff and blowing a strand of blond hair out of his eyes.

“Sod off,” Draco retorted, taking a wobbly step towards Harry, who backs up, grinning. Draco frowned, looking at the increased distance between them. “Potter, get over here.”

“Why?” asked Harry teasingly. “Need my help?” Draco takes a few more steps across the ice, his confidence growing as he goes.

“No, I don’t need anyone’s help,” said Draco primly. _Now, do I want his help? Yes. There’s a difference._ He finally managed to skate over to Harry and with a yelp fell on him, clutching a surprised Harry by the shoulders. Draco’s relieved when Harry helped him up and kept his hands around Draco’s hips, a steadying presence. Draco’s breathing was a little heavy, like he’d been running.

“I don’t like this very much,” he said faintly, slightly distracted by Harry in front of him, who grinned slowly.

“You’re doing fine, love.” he replied, and Draco felt his cheeks heat. Harry looked a little embarrassed for a second, but seemed to recover his confidence.

“Love?” sputtered Draco. “All the pet names in the world and you go for love?”

Honestly, Draco didn’t really mind. Inwardly he kind of liked it, but it would ruin his reputation if word got out that Draco Malfoy was letting Harry Potter call him love.  
Harry grinned again. “Yeah.” he said, entirely too pleased with himself. Draco sniffed daintily in response, but he knew Harry could tell that he didn’t mind. And he didn’t mind either when Harry kissed him long and slow, warming Draco from head to toe, and making Daphne and Camille hoot at them from across the ice.

….

“So tell me,” said Draco drowsily. “What did Harry Potter do before he came to Hogwarts?” Harry smiled slightly and shook his head. They were cuddled up together on Harry’s bed after dinner, and Harry was warm and fighting to keep from sleeping, and Draco seemed to be doing the same.

“Nothing grand,” replied Harry amicably. “Living with my aunt and uncle and cousin, who all had a strong disliking for me. Wearing hand me down clothes, sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, being pushed around. The usual.”

Draco pushed himself more upright with the hand on Harry’s chest so he could see Harry’s face. He looked quite shocked.

“Sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs?” he repeated, his eyes wide. “What- that’s-”

“Yeah, I know. Not great. I wasn’t so much treated like an extra son, more like the unwanted bug in the corner of the house. They hated that I was a wizard. That’s why I always stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays.” said Harry. He’d almost forgotten that Draco probably didn’t know about his times at number 4 Privet Drive, but hadn’t really deemed it essential to tell him as of now. He knew it would come up sooner or later, though.

Draco seemed as though he was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry you had to live like that,” he said finally, still watching Harry. Harry smiled faintly.

“What do you remember from your childhood?” he asked curiously, and Draco’s face took on a pensive look.

“Well,” he said. “The things I remember most- most fondly, I suppose, were teatimes with Mother. When it was just me and her, things were much simpler. No expectations, nothing to be worried about. She always asked about my day, and let me talk and talk as much as I wanted. We used to sneak out at night and she would spread a blanket on the lawn and point out my constellation.” Draco reminisced, a soft smile on his face.

“What about- your father?” Harry questioned tentatively.

“Oh.” replied Draco slowly. “I mean, I loved him too. He was my father. And very strict with me as well. He always strove to craft me into his idea of the perfect heir, the best son. I never quite lived up to his expectations, though.” His face seemed a little more sad, though Harry couldn’t tell if that was because Lucius was currently in Azkaban, or from the memories.

“Was Dobby always with your family?” Harry asked softly. A slight pang went through Harry at the memory of Dobby, with his tea cozies and high voice and large ears and penchant for knobbly socks.

“Yes, ever since I can remember. He used to play with me when I was very young, and Mother and Father had to go to events and things. Not so much after, though. Father stopped it. He said it wasn’t becoming of the Malfoy heir to hang around with common house-elves, and that was that.” Draco said it very matter-of-factly, and Harry felt angry at Lucius Malfoy, for saying such a thing. “You used to spend the holidays with Weasley and his family, right?” continued Draco, and now Harry was the one to smile and reminisce.

“Yeah. We had lots of fun. Mrs. Weasley is the best cook I’ve ever known, and they all seemed to enjoy having me around, which was a right sight better than the Dursley’s.” he   
answered.

“Sorry for teasing you all those years,” said Draco seriously, and Harry chuckled and kissed him, his hands going to the warm skin under Draco’s shirt.

“Yeah, you were a right foul git,” Harry joked, and Draco looked slightly offended, but smiled ruefully.

“Maybe I was. A little bit.” he admitted.

“More than a little bit.”

“Oh shut up, Harry.” Draco muttered, and Harry laughed.

He loved these times with Draco, when it was just the two of them and he could hold the blond, just hold him. And talk to him. Harry didn’t mind what they talked about, he mainly just liked hearing Draco’s voice. It was soothing, and he reckoned he could probably fall asleep if Draco talked for long enough.  
Draco’s breathing was slowing down, and Harry prodded him gently.

“What?” murmured Draco, stirring again.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Harry chided.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Draco murmured drowsily, and Harry smiled.

“Go back to your bed, or when you wake up you’ll complain about the lack of space, you did that last time.” Harry pointed out, but Draco’s arms were woven snugly around him and Draco ignored what Harry was saying, his head over Harry’s heart. Harry curved his own arm over Draco’s back, wondering again that this was real. Him. Draco. Together, and not fighting every second of every day.

Draco gave a little sigh, and Harry figured he was asleep already. It was surprising how fast the Slytherin could fall asleep when he wanted too, considering he spent about half of his nights awake. Harry just gazed at what he could see of Draco’s face as he, too, became tired. His lips, the curve of his cheekbones. The bridge of his nose. He looked so innocent when he slept.

Harry felt very protective of him at the current moment, though he knew Draco would balk if he told him. But when Draco was in his arms, he just felt so precious, so amazing, and Harry wanted to keep him there as long as humanly possible.

Soon the steady, slow rhythm of Draco’s breathing lulled Harry into sleep, and he dreamed of Patronuses, a silvery stag and a translucent Abraxan frolicking around each other, racing through the trees.

When he awoke, Draco was no longer laying with him, and Harry raised himself up, yawning, looking around for him. And there he was, sitting in the armchair with a look Harry would have called fond on anyone else, but on Draco you could never be too sure.

“Finally up, are we?” teased Draco. “You’re cute when you sleep. Even though you snore.” Harry blinked, before smiling indulgently.

“You look cute when you sleep, too. And I don’t snore. You do, though.”

“Stop lying, Potter. We both know I’m too dignified to snore,” Draco replied, placidly sipping his coffee. A corner of Harry’s mouth tugged up in amusement. It was true, Draco didn’t snore. He just let out these little sleepy sighs and huffs every now and then, and Harry thought it was positively adorable, although Draco would probably just be embarrassed by it.

“Okay, maybe you don’t snore.” admitted Harry, searching for and putting on his glasses, the world losing its blur. Draco smirked.

“Oh, by the way,” he added, tilting his head towards the door. “Amelie’s waiting for you. Something about an all-day excursion?” Harry groaned

“Damn, I forgot.” he exclaimed. They were going to the school again, but it was sort of a test this time, to see if they could manage multiple classes and a teacher’s schedule. Harry rushed around, getting ready, while Draco watched him from the comfort of the armchair.

“Bye,” said Draco, tugging Harry down into a kiss.

Harry grinned. “Bye.” he said, and rushed out of the dorm.

….

After classes, Draco sat in his dorm, working on a particularly tricky Charms essay that was due in a few day’s time. His desk was by the window, which was nice, as it allowed a lot of light to stream in over where he was working. Harry was still out, and it was mid afternoon. The room was slightly stuffy, so Draco had the window cracked to air it out, even though it was so chilly outside now, it being early January.

He thumbed through a nearby book, a small pang of satisfaction sweeping through him when he found what he needed and finished the sentence he was writing, tossing the quill upon the desk with a sigh. Just the conclusion, now, and then he could get started on the spell practice for Defense.

Suddenly there was a tapping noise on the window outside, and Draco looked up to see a handsome tawny owl, feathers slightly ruffled from the wind, a letter clutched in its beak. He frowned a little. Who’d be sending him a letter now? Maybe Pansy, but why?

He opened the window and allowed the owl to hop inside, where he gently tugged the letter from it’s beak. The envelope was of decent quality, creamy white paper addressed simply to Draco Malfoy, Beauxbatons. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but Draco couldn’t place it. Ah, well. Might as well open it. His writing hand was beginning to ache, anyways. Draco tossed a curious look at the owl, which was still hanging around. Usually they flew off as soon as the letter was delivered. Maybe he wanted a reply.

“Go on,” Draco told the owl. “Shoo. If I need to reply I’ll send it with another owl.” The owl blinked it’s large yellow eyes at him, hooting dutifully, and only flew off when Draco   
flapped a hand at it. He closed the window and opened the letter.

_Draco,_

_Look I know things weren’t grand the last time we saw each other but could we talk? Please? I won’t try to kiss you again, promise._

_Theo_

Draco dropped the letter on the desk, wrinkling his nose.

“Really,” he said to himself with some disgust, “Why on earth would I want to talk to him again? Does he really expect me to agree?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I suppose if I don’t reply he’ll come barging up to the school like a prat.”

So Draco got out a new piece of parchment and picked up his quill again, intending to write back to Theo and tell him a firm and resounding no.

“Hey, Draco.” came Harry’s voice from behind him, and Draco dropped his quill, splattering ink on the wooden desk.

“Hey,” he said casually.

He sort of didn’t want Harry to see the letter, because he knew it would rile Harry up and Draco just wanted to get this over with, get Theo out of his life because it didn’t matter what they’d been in the past, a no was a no and he was dating Harry, anyway. Not that he would go back to Theo even if he was single. That would be pathetic.

“How was that healing test you had today?” asked Harry. Draco stood up to greet him, pleased that Harry had remembered.

“Alright. I’m finishing up an essay.” he replied. “How was the school thing?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Merlin, it was so chaotic. I forgot how energetic little kids are. Almost wore out my shoes chasing down this one kid.” Draco snorted but went to draw Harry down for a kiss.

Until Harry stilled, his lips an inch from Draco’s but his eyes raised over Draco’s shoulder, to the desk with Theo’s letter on it.

“What’s that?” he asked, and Draco sighed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “Harry, don’t-” But Harry was already striding over to Draco’s desk, and a predatory stillness went through him as he read the letter. Draco sighed. 

“What the hell is this?” said Harry furiously, glancing back up at Draco. Merlin, here we go. Draco bit his lip.

“Harry-” he started.

“Why the fuck is he writing to you? Have you been writing to-”

“No, Harry, calm down, I haven’t-”

“Why does he want to talk to you?” exclaimed Harry, fury in his green eyes. He was clenching the letter tightly, wrinkling it as though he was imagining it was Theo’s neck.

“To try to win me back, I suppose.” Draco said patiently yet unenthusiastically, resisting the urge to snap at Harry and just tell him he was being an overprotective prat. But he knew that wouldn't help. Harry clenched his jaw as Draco went on. “Look, will you calm down and listen? I have not been writing to him, that letter just came.”

“Then why are you writing back?” Harry said, thinly veiled anger in his voice.

“To tell him no. Obviously.” Draco replied flatly.

“So why’d you try to cover it up?” asked Harry, and Draco thought he could see anxiety building in Harry’s eyes, and exhaled.

_Merlin, I’ve really made a mess of things._

“Because I knew you would act like this,” said Draco placatingly, approaching Harry, who huffed derisively.

“Who does he think he is,” muttered Harry, glaring at Theo’s letter. “Writing shit like this.” He threw it down upon the desk and sat down, the cords in his neck standing out.

“Harry.” said Draco, sitting next to him. “You know I don’t like him at all. I like you.”

He leaned in to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, but gasped involuntarily when Harry surged forward, his hands coming to Draco’s waist and pulling him closer, his fingers tight, like he thought Draco would disappear if he let go. Draco parted his lips and stifled a moan when Harry’s tongue tangled with his, but soon realized that this was not their normal sort of kiss. Harry was taking control of it, pressing Draco into the bed and kissing him intensely. Draco’s head was spinning, and he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering when Harry licked at a spot on his neck.

Draco thought he knew what Harry was feeling, even as ridiculous and overhyped those feelings were. Or he could take a guess.

Being angry about Theo, obviously, was the main thing. Feeling like he had to protect Draco, but also to (not that it was rational, at all) sort of assert his claim on Draco, which was something ridiculously Gryffindor-ish but kind of sweet if you thought about it. And Harry was also probably having niggling doubts about Draco’s commitment to the relationship, since it was relatively new.

Draco took Harry’s face between his hands, tilting it up gently so they were eye to eye. He’s so beautiful.

“You know I like you. Only you. I don’t feel anything at all for Theo.” he said firmly, and Harry let out a little sigh.

“I know,” he murmured softly, the vibrations of his voice rumbling over Draco’s skin, making him shiver. “I’m sorry.” he continued, kissing Draco again, softly this time, his hands sweeping gently over Draco’s skin.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” replied Draco, his arms twined around Harry’s neck as he looked up at him. “I probably should have told you straight up.”

Harry cracked a grin, coming to lay next to him. “Yeah,” he agreed. He tugged Draco back against him gently, so he was curled around Draco. Draco sighed contentedly. He would never admit it out loud, but he did really enjoy the times when he could just lay with Harry, when they could hold each other. It made him feel calm, safe, like they were in their own little bubble. It was nice to feel like that for once.

….

Harry only realized he’d fallen asleep when Draco put ice-cold fingers up to his neck and it jolted him awake. He yelped and his eyes shot open reflexively.

Draco sniggered, twisted around in Harry’s arms to that they were face to face.

“It’s not my fault you fell asleep, Potter.”

“Your hands are fucking freezing, Draco, damn.” complained Harry. He laced both of his hands with both of Draco’s, under the unspoken pretense of warming them up but also just to hold his hands, since Draco rarely let him do that. Especially in public. _(“We don’t need to act like bloody Hufflepuffs, Harry, it’s pathetic!”)_

“Will you look at that, my lips are getting cold too,” Draco said casually, and Harry chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Better?”

“Practice makes perfect, Potter.” Draco responded, a smirk curling his lips. Harry smiled back before pressing their lips together again, their entwined hands held between them.  
Ten minutes later Harry had watched Draco write a very short, blunt letter back to Nott.

_Theo,_

_No. Not a chance. Stop contacting me._

_Draco_

They had then walked back to their dorm, after going to Camille’s room to borrow her eagle owl to deliver the note. 

And now they were again ensconced in their dorm, Harry having persuaded Draco (it had taken a while) to let him practice braiding Draco’s hair again.

“There,” declared Harry, and Draco held up a mirror to examine, frowning skeptically.

“Are you sure it’s supposed to look all crooked and wonky like that?”

“You look cute!”

“Malfoys are not cute, Harry,” responded Draco, wrinkling his nose.

“You are cute. You’re shorter than me.” replied Harry, fingering the ends of Draco’s braid. His hair was very soft. Draco was right, it was a bit messy, but better than his last attempt.

“I am not shorter than you.” snapped Draco, and Harry smirked.

“Whatever you say.” Harry answered, his fingers now grazing the back of Draco’s neck. Draco shivered, and Harry grinned. Draco glared at him in the mirror that he was still holding up.

“Git.” he muttered.  
“What was that?” asked Harry innocently, fingers stroking over Draco’s skin slowly.

“Just fucking kiss me, you tease!” demanded Draco, turning around and dropping the mirror, and Harry smirked before doing so. _Not that I’ll ever need an excuse for this. It’s addicting, kissing Draco Malfoy._

His hands crept under Draco’s shirt, tugging it up some as they kissed. Harry pulled back, panting a little, but paused when he saw a silvery line across Draco’s skin and pulled Draco’s shirt off fully.

“What?” asked Draco, looking from Harry to the scars. “Oh.”

The scars from the Sectumsempra crisscrossed over Draco’s chest, long and thin and silvery. Harry traced them with a finger softly. He remembered that day so clearly. How Draco had gasped and fallen backwards, the bloom of his blood in the water, across his shirt. The pained, small noises he’d made. How terrible Harry’d felt, watching him lay there.

“Stop thinking about it,” said Draco sharply, and Harry looked back at him. “I’m fine. They aren’t that bad. You already apologized.” Harry sighed.

“I still feel bad about it.”

“Well, don’t.” ordered Draco. “If I can forgive you- and you know how little I do that- you can forgive yourself. You didn’t mean to.” Harry recognized the truth in his words with a small pang of amusement sweeping away the sadness. (Draco held so many grudges) Harry lay down next to him. Draco traced Harry’s tattoo with one fingertip, drawing comforting lines on his skin. Then he sat up, and Harry watched him, eyes sweeping over Draco’s pale skin. “Come on,” said Draco, a bit pink in the face. “Dinner.” He held out a hand, and Harry accepted it, the strong grip pulling him up and back to reality.

The next morning they were spooning again, when Harry’s wand-alarm rang for fifteen minutes before classes started. Harry sat up, reluctant to leave the warmth of the blankets and Draco, but it wasn’t like time would wait for them.

“D’you know where my glasses are?”

“No.” said Draco after a slight pause, but Harry could tell he was lying.

“Draco, I need my glasses. Give them back,” Harry said, reaching for Draco, but the blond twisted out of his loose grip with a grin.

“How do you know I have them? You can’t even see.”

“I’m not blind, Draco, I can see enough.”

“Then you don’t need your glasses, do you?” Draco pointed out, and through blurry vision Harry saw Draco put his glasses on. “Yikes, nevermind. Your eyesight is really horrible.”

“Yeah,” said Harry dryly, snatching his glasses off of Draco’s face. “I really didn’t know, thanks so much for telling me.” Draco smirked and Harry rolled his eyes as they stood up. 

_I’ll get him back tonight,_ Harry thought, smiling to himself.

So at the end of dinner, when Draco usually showered, Harry took all of his hair products and hid them under his bed, under a handy loose floorboard he’d discovered. It reminded him a lot of his fourth year, when he’d hidden snacks and cakes under a loose floorboard in his bedroom when Dudley, and the whole family, had gone on the diet of what Uncle Vernon had called “rabbit food”. Harry smirked as he remembered all of the tantrums that had shaken the house.

“Harry,” said Draco, appearing out of the bathroom. “Give me back my stuff. I need it.”

“I don’t have it.” insisted Harry, doing a bad job of hiding his grin. “Honest.” Draco glared at him, crossing his arms.

“Give it back.”

“First of all, I don’t have it-”

“Oh, please, stop lying-”

“-and why do you need it so much?” asked Harry, tilting his head and thoroughly enjoying the sight of an irate Draco bearing down on him.

“Because I can’t go out with messy hair! I’d look like you-”

“Oh, what a horror.”

“Exactly!” agreed Draco, and Harry made an offended noise.

“My hair isn’t even that bad!” he protested, and Draco snorted derisively.

“Yes it is, but I have an image to uphold, Potty.” he snapped, and Harry snickered.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll even be nice and let you use mine.” Draco stared him down before whipping out his wand and Accio’ing the hair products from under Harry’s bed, making a   
loud bang as they knocked aside the floorboard. Harry laughed as Draco strode back into the bathroom, muttering under his breath about “fucking Gryffindor commoners” and slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks so much for reading my fic! Shoutout to everyone showing me love, especially ooSilva_007. It makes my day! I love all of you <3


	17. Chapter 17

Draco thought that January had gone by entirely too quickly; it was the dawn of their last day at Beauxbatons, and he could barely wrap his mind around that. Lying in his bed, with the chilly morning breeze from the window streaming into the room, it seemed like any other day that they’d had, no different.

The month of January had been quite good, about the same as the previous two months they’d been at Beauxbatons. Draco had immersed himself in Healing classes, dinners with his friends, and being with Harry. It had been- was- like a preview of someone else’s life, and Draco could still hardly wrap his mind around the fact that it was his own life he was experiencing. That the nightmarish events were over. That there was no clock ticking down the borrowed time. That it was real.

But Draco was eternally glad he’d gone on this trip. The boy who’d arrived at Hogwarts at the beginning of eighth year was certainly not the same person he was now. For one thing, the most obvious thing, he had a boyfriend. A happy relationship (though Draco cringed slightly to call it happy, how pathetically Hufflepuff of him) with none other than Harry Potter. He had friends now. Friends that in the past had been people he loathed, but now people he cared for. He could cast a Patronus. He had a tattoo that he loved over a scar he hated, and Draco was, well, happy. A better version of himself than the scared, self-hating person he’d been last year.

And for the first time in a very long while, he didn’t hate himself for being happy. He thought again of the moment of that irrevocable shift from the person he’d been to who he was now, Harry’s words echoing again in his ears. You deserve a life as much as I do.

Draco was supremely grateful that Harry Potter had entered his life again. Because he brought out the best in Draco now, understood him, accepted him. Was one of the very best friends Draco had ever had. As was just as good a boyfriend as he was a friend.

It would be weird going back to Hogwarts after all that’d happened at Beauxbatons, concluded Draco. Saying goodbye to all of their friends here. Even if part of him was jumping at the fact that he would return to the familiar castle, see the halls he’d been walking for seven years. He grinned to himself. And he was looking forward to seeing Weasley’s face when he found out Draco and Harry were dating.

Draco sat up, gazing around the blue and white room and all of their belongings scattered haphazardly about it. Robes, spellbooks, a few quills. Mostly Harry’s things, his own were a touch neater.

He finally looked around at Harry, who was still asleep, seeing as it was the weekend and they didn’t have classes. Draco smiled fondly at Harry, seeing as Harry was asleep and couldn’t see Draco’s obvious show of affection. His hair lay messily on his forehead, and his lips were parted slightly, drawing in deep, slow breaths as he slept. He looked different with his glasses off- a little younger.

Draco got up with a contented sigh and quietly got dressed before beginning to pack, keeping an eye on the sleeping Harry across the room. About ten minutes later he was done, except for one sweater that he couldn’t pack yet because Harry was wearing it. He didn’t mind, though, he found it amusing that Harry had his own sweater now, one exactly like Draco’s, but still insisted on wearing Draco’s.

He closed the lid of his trunk with a soft thump and sat next to it, twirling his wand absentmindedly in his hand. It was a relatively warm day today, the sun was lighting up the grounds outside. There were birds chirruping in far-off trees. All together it was quite peaceful.

“Hey.” came Harry’s drowsy voice, and Draco glanced over his shoulder to see him awake, sitting on his bed and watching Draco with a soft smile and a sparkle in his eyes. Draco would never be tired of seeing the way Harry’s eyes lit up when they looked at each other. It was magical.

The healing pendant was around his neck still, as Harry had taken to wearing it everyday, which made Draco feel warm inside. Harry had had two panic attacks since Christmas, both when he’d seen a sudden flash of green light. One had been fireworks over one of the villages, and the other had been a spell in a classroom, though it hadn’t been the Killing Curse, of course. Draco had been silently ecstatic that the pendant had helped Harry. That he’d helped Harry. He’d been able to calm down a lot quicker.

“Morning.” replied Draco, a returning smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Harry yawned, throwing off his blankets and setting his feet on the floor.

“I can’t believe we leave today,” commented Harry as he slid on his glasses.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about that.”

“Mm. I can tell. You have that philosophical look on your face again.” said Harry, grinning slightly as he padded over to where Draco was standing out the window, throwing his arms around Draco’s waist and hugging him from behind. Draco twisted in his arms and kissed him briefly, enjoying the smell of vanilla that was enveloped around him. Harry’s smell.

“Philosophical look?” repeated Draco. “That makes me sound ancient, Harry.” Harry offered him a grin, pressing his lips to Draco’s forehead. Draco bit his lip in an effort to keep from smiling. He always complained when Harry did that, saying he only did it to lord over Draco that he was taller than him, but in truth he enjoyed it. The forehead kisses were sweet, comforting.

“You might have white hair, but don’t worry, you aren’t ancient yet.” joked Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Blame my father for my hair.” Draco said dryly. “It’s a Malfoy standard. I know for a fact my grandfather made my cousin bleach his hair because it was too dark and not on par with his expectations.” Harry chuckled before unwrapping his arms from around Draco and going to lug his trunk out from under his bed.

“You’ve already packed?” he asked in surprise, spotting Draco’s trunk sitting closed on his bed. Draco nodded, leaning against the wall.

“Everything except for my sweater that you have on. But if you’re going to wear it today that’s fine.” he replied amicably, feeling in a benevolent sort of mood. Harry smirked, nodding. He began to pack.

“It’ll be weird having other people in our dorm again,” said Harry, sighing as he dumped spellbooks into his trunk. Draco resisted the urge to make him pack neatly, instead of just throwing everything in.

Draco frowned. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about that.” he replied. Less privacy, which meant less of the times they both loved when it was just the two of them and they could talk,   
kiss, hold each other. That would be annoying.

“But we get to see Hermione and Ron again,” pointed out Harry with a smile. Draco grinned back.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see Weasley’s expression when he sees me-” Draco sauntered up to Harry and kissed him, long and slow and sweet, like they had all the time in the world. “-do that,” he finished, pulling back and smirking at Harry’s flushed cheeks. Harry shook his head, chuckling.

“Me either. Don’t make it too long, though. He might just pass out.” replied Harry, and Draco snorted.

….

Harry and Draco tugged their trunks out of their room and into the hallway, where their luggage joined the pile of trunks from the other Hogwarts students on one side of the hallway. Harry lingered by their dorm door, eyes skimming over the familiar features of the room, remembering memories in the dorm room with a nostalgic smile. Late night talks, kissing, cuddling. Falling asleep together, just sleeping together. Draco helping Harry with homework. Small, everyday things that blurred into each other, but that Harry remembered fondly nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me you’re attached to the room,” teased Draco, his grey eyes sparkling as he walked back to Harry.

“Maybe a little bit,” admitted Harry. Draco grabbed his hand and Harry let Draco tug him away from their Beauxbatons dorm and down the hall, where they would go to breakfast before departing for Hogwarts.

“One last day of decent coffee,” sighed Draco, and Harry grinned.

“You’ll be fine,” he replied, and Draco shook his head sadly, making Harry laugh as they turned into the dining hall. Harry spotted Daphne, her long blond hair tied back in it’s usual green-ribboned ponytail; Simon, sitting close to Daphne with a fond smile on his face as he looked at her; Camille, in a creamy sweater, chattering away to Amelie, who was eating her croissant with a pensive expression as she listened. All their closest friends at Beauxbatons.

Harry had said goodbye to some people the day before, in classes. People like Charlotte, who had always been friendly to him in the classes they shared, and Wyatt, who’d partnered with him on a particularly difficult project for Charms. It had made him a bit sad. He always hated saying goodbye to people.

The one exception to that had been the Dursley’s. Uncle Vernon had seemed glad to be rid of him and Harry had returned the same sentiments, if a bit less strongly. He wondered where they were now. The new house they were in was probably similar to the old one. Overly neat, and the same as all those around of it. As normal as they come, exactly the way the Dursley’s liked things. Which, of course, was why they’d never liked him.

“Now who’s the one with a philosophical look on his face?” teased Draco, and Harry swept his meandering thoughts aside.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes with a smile. Harry tuned back into the conversation flowing around him at the table.

“...and you must write to us,” Camille was saying to Daphne and Draco.

“We’ll definitely write you,” added Simon, exchanging a sad, fond look with Daphne. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for them; assuming they were staying together, it would be difficult to have a relationship over that distance.

“Yeah, of course we’ll write,” replied Draco, throwing an arm around Camille, who gave him a slightly watery smile and leaned into the hug.

“Alright, students, it is time for our exchange students to leave us.” announced Madam Maxime from the front of the dining hall. “If the Hogwarts students would please follow me.”

There was a great swell of conversation as people said hurried, final goodbyes. Harry found himself being hugged tightly by Amelie, who was sniffling a little. He hugged her back.

“Write, you prat. I’ll miss you.” she said, and Harry smiled at her.

“I’ll miss you too. And I will write.” he replied. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry,” he teased gently, and she laughed. Harry was then seized by Camille and promised the same to her, that he would write. Over Camille’s shoulder he saw Draco and Daphne saying goodbye to Simon, Daphne with watery eyes. Harry walked over and said a quick farewell to Simon before Draco grabbed his hand tightly.

“Merlin, I hate goodbyes,” he murmured, looking a little forlorn as they waved one last time to their Beauxbatons friends before following the other exchange students, and Madam Maxime, out of the dining hall. Daphne came and took hold of Draco’s other hand, so that she and Harry were on either side of the blond. Harry sighed.

“I hate them too,” he said quietly, and Daphne nodded agreement, looking as though she did not trust her voice as she glanced back over her shoulder. She took a shaky breath and Harry felt another wave of sympathy for her. Apparently Draco felt the same because he gave her a quick, one armed hug.

“It’ll be alright. You two will make it work.” said Draco rather awkwardly, and Harry had the sudden urge to smile, as Draco reminded him of Ron at this moment. They were both not quite in their element when trying to comfort crying people. Although Draco was better at it than Ron.

Daphne gave Draco a subdued smile before they rejoined the group ahead of them, standing in an ornately decorated room with a large and grand fireplace, vividly green flames flickering within. Harry felt a pang of anxiety at the sight of the bright green flames and fingered the necklace he’d gotten from Draco, the smooth, small pendant of a stag sliding through his fingers. Calm washed over him and he took several measured breaths, feeling the anxiety ebb away. He felt Draco’s eyes on him, and the Slytherin squeezed his hand comfortingly. Harry met the concerned grey eyes and smiled.

“I’m alright.” he told Draco, who blinked at him in silent confirmation, his thumb stroking over Harry’s hand. Harry, once more, tuned back in to the conversation he hadn’t been listening to.

“...so eight of you will be taking the Floo Network back to Hogwarts,” Madam Maxime was saying in her heavily accented English. “Minerva has informed me that two of you will be Apparating together back to the castle in lieu of the Floo Network, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter.” she finished, and Harry exchanged a surprised, but relieved look with Draco.

As the other eight Hogwarts students queued up in front of the fireplace (which Harry was not looking at, just to stay calm) Draco leaned closer to Harry.

“That was nice of McGonagall,” he whispered, his lips brushing Harry’s ear. Harry shivered a little at the sensation. Kissing will have to wait, though. This is not the place for it, he thought resolutely.

“Yeah,” Harry replied quietly. “It was.”

“Well, shall we be off, then? Since we’re Apparating together?” said Draco, a sparkle of anticipation in his eyes. Harry smiled.

“Yeah. I assume you want to do the actual Apparating?”

“Well legally I have to, you never took your test.” pointed out Draco with a smirk. Harry chuckled but gripped Draco’s hand firmly, their fingers curling around each other. Draco exhaled before turning on the spot and Apparating, dragging Harry with him into the compressive tunnel, the darkness, the uncomfortable sensations, until they rematerialized in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

….

Draco blinked open his eyes to see the Great Hall, looking just as it always did. The four (now five) student tables, the stone gargoyles adorning the walls, the enchanted ceiling, currently reflecting a calm blue sky. Draco looked around, aware of Harry next to him, their hands still clasped tightly together. He saw the fireplace, flaring green as a student came through. The Headmistress was standing adjacent to the fireplace, welcoming each student back as they came through the Floo.

“We’re back,” said Harry, a note of wonder in his voice.

“We’re back,” Draco repeated.

He was glad to return to Hogwarts, to see his friends again, but… things would be different here. They were different here. He was the Death Eater, Harry was the Chosen One. When people found out about their relationship… it wouldn’t stop him from dating Harry, but it would make things difficult. For both of them. For Harry.  
That’s why it had felt so surreal at Beauxbatons. Because there, he was just Draco. Harry was just Harry. People didn’t care as much, and no one hated him, or the fact that he was dating Harry. A wash of longing to be back at Beauxbatons swept over him.

“Draco,” said Harry softly. “It’ll be alright. Stop overthinking it.” He squeezed Draco’s hand reassuringly, and Draco nodded silently. He was still a touch apprehensive about what lay ahead of them, whatever Harry said.

“Potter, Malfoy, welcome back.” said Headmistress McGonagall, striding over to them in her pointed witch’s hat. Harry greeted her, and Draco murmured a hello. “You all are exempt from morning classes, go ahead to your common room. Your things are already in your dorms. You will be expected at afternoon classes.” she continued, and they nodded before leaving the Great Hall with a few other exchange students.

As they passed through the halls, they went by two Gryffindors, who stared at their clasped hands with shock. Then disgust.

“Death Eater,” muttered one of the boys, glaring at Draco, who glared right back until the other boy looked away. Just because he didn’t bully people anymore didn’t mean he   
would let them walk all over him.

The girl with him was watching Harry with concern, but Harry smiled dryly at the two.

“Can I help you?” he said, and the girl flushed from embarrassment.

“Why the hell are you with him? Are you out of your mind?” exclaimed the Gryffindor boy. “What’s wrong with you, Potter?”

“Nothing, actually.” said Harry conversationally, and kept walking, tugging Draco along with him. Draco glanced back once to see the two students looking after them and muttering to each other. I knew this would happen, thought Draco.

Draco made to let go of Harry’s hand, but Harry laced their fingers together with a reassuring smile. Draco bit his lip.

“Harry, we shouldn’t-”

“I don’t care what people think, Draco. You said you didn’t either.” Harry said calmly as they walked through an empty hallway and began ascending one of the moving staircases. It began to shift and they paused until it was stationary again.

“I don’t, I just- don’t want you to have to deal with shit because of me.” muttered Draco, looking away, at the portraits adorning the walls, fixing his gaze on a portrait of three warlocks in large ruffled collars, sitting at a desk and writing with elaborate quills.

“It’s not because of you.” Harry replied as the staircase settled into place, and they walked up the remainder of it into another hallway. “It doesn’t matter what they think, it doesn’t concern them. I care about what you think. Not them. And trust me, I’ve dealt with shit before.” he continued. “Remember second year? Fourth year?”

Draco gave him a small smile, somewhat reassured. They paused in front of the portrait to the eighth year common room and Harry kissed Draco’s forehead. Draco pressed his lips together to keep from smiling again.

“Not in public, Harry,” he teased, and Harry grinned at the familiar scolding.

“Alright.” Harry said with an easy smile before speaking the password to get into the common room, and frowning when the portrait stayed closed.

“There’s a new password,” said Parvati Patil, coming up with her sister from behind them. “McGonagall told me, it’s ‘Fanged Geranium’.” The portrait swung open.

“Thanks,” said Harry, and the two girls walked past them with friendly smiles. Draco didn’t mind the Patil twins, they’d been nice at Beauxbatons. He’d paired up with Padma for Transfiguration sometimes, and to the twins, at least, Draco and Harry’s relationship was not a surprise. He only wished it was the same for everyone else here.

Draco and Harry walked into the common room. The only people there were the other students who’d returned from Beauxbatons, and they walked past all of them and went up to their dormitory. Longbottom and Thomas were still in classes, and Corner was in the common room talking to the Patil twins, so for the moment they were alone in the dorm.

Harry sat down on his bed and tugged Draco down next to him, pressing his lips to Draco’s. Draco leaned into the kiss, it was something familiar now, more comforting than being in the castle again- the castle was no longer comforting so much as intimidating, because of the people inside. They’d riot, for Merlin’s sake. Probably say he’d bewitched Harry with Dark Magic or some fuckery like that. Draco sighed, and Harry pulled back slightly.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” he said, fingers tracing over Draco’s tattoo.

“Yes.” admitted Draco, dropping his head.

“I understand that you’re worried about backlash,” replied Harry soothingly. “Honestly… I am a bit, too. But that isn’t going to scare me into not loving you.” he said quietly, and Draco’s head jerked up in surprise. Harry smiled.

 _He loves me,_ thought Draco with awe.

_And I’ve loved him ever since I spilled my thoughts out to him in this dormitory._

Draco met Harry’s eyes again. He wanted to say it out loud, in english this time. So Harry would understand. As intimidating as that was.

“I love you too,” he murmured, and Harry’s eyes softened. The words were easier to say than he’d expected, but he’d been meaning to say them for a while now.

“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” said Harry firmly, and Draco nodded, still in a happy daze. He saw the same ecstasy reflected in Harry’s green eyes, and his lips curved up into a small smile. Harry’s hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him forward until their lips could meet, and Draco wound his arms around Harry’s neck as the sweet taste of vanilla filled his mouth. _He loves me._

His heart was beating furiously inside of his chest, and only those words repeated in his brain. Over and over. _That isn’t going to scare me into not loving you._ The words were flames, burning through him. It felt like- like he could grow wings if he wanted. Like he could do anything.

….

Harry thought that those four words that had come out of Draco’s mouth were the most amazing thing he’d heard all his life.

_I love you too._

They were walking down to the Great Hall, and since it was relatively early for lunch the hallways were clear. Harry didn’t think he would notice even if the whole student body of Hogwarts were shouting at him right now, because all that was on his mind was the boy walking next to him. His boyfriend. Draco. Merlin.

He hadn’t really planned on saying what he had, it’d just kind of...slipped out. Harry had been apprehensive for a second- please don’t run away, don’t get panicked about this, he’d been thinking wildly- but for once his random blurting had turned out to be a good thing. And furthermore, Draco had said he loved Harry. It was blowing Harry’s mind.

Especially since this was Draco, Harry knew how much it took for him to say something like that. Or to trust Harry, and follow his lead on how to deal with the people at Hogwarts. 

But he did. Had. Does. And that knowledge is just...infinitely precious to Harry. Wondrous. Amazing.

“Harry! Draco!” said someone loudly, and Harry had a quick, confused impression of Hermione running flat out at them before he was wrapped in a tight, rib-cracking hug. It seemed Hermione had one arm around Harry and one around Draco, because Draco’s shoulder was digging into Harry’s uncomfortably.

“Hermione!” Harry replied, hugging her back as much as he could. She finally loosened her grip on them and stepped back to see them, beaming. Ron walked up behind her, grinning.

“Hey, mate.” he said, clapping Harry on the back. “Hey, Malfoy.”

“Hey Weasley,” replied Draco, smirking.

“You must tell us all about it,” exclaimed Hermione. She held up a napkin-wrapped package that Harry had not noticed previously. “We stopped by the Great Hall to get food so we could all go to the common room.”

“Brilliant,” said Harry. Eating in the common room with the three people he cared for the most sounded vastly better than going into the Great Hall. Whatever he’d said to Draco, he was still slightly reluctant to enter back into the student body. Of course like he’d said, it wasn’t going to scare him into breaking up with Draco or anything like that, but it would not be enjoyable to deal with all of the hostility. But he would. He would, over and over, as long as he could stay with Draco.

The four of them walked up to the common room, and Draco exchanged an amused look with Harry. Hermione was walking in between them, and Ron on Harry’s other side, so they weren’t joined together by the hand anymore, but knowing Draco, he was planning a showy moment to reveal their relationship. Harry chuckled to himself.

Once they were ensconced in the common room and everyone had a sandwich in hand, Hermione began firing off questions while Ron watched, content to let her do the talking but obviously curious as well.

“What was the school like? The teachers? The courses? How were your programs?” Hermione asked eagerly. Harry decided to imitate Ron and let Draco do the talking, at least for now. So Draco told them about the school, and everything else while Harry sat back and listened.

“Didn’t you write to us about a ball, or something?” asked Ron, his words somewhat muffled by the food in front of his mouth. Hermione shot him an exasperated look and Harry snickered. It was like nothing had changed-not that he'd expected it to. At least, with Hermione and Ron.

“Yeah,” Harry replied casually. He swapped a look with Draco, who’s eyes were sparkling merrily at the withheld secret. “But we left the ball early.” Harry continued, noting Hermione’s keen eyes flicking between him and Draco with curiosity.

“So what was the best part of the trip?” said Ron, leaning back in his seat. Harry glanced at Draco again.

Then Hermione let out a little “Oh!” and Ron’s eyes went to her. Harry could tell she knew, now. She was smiling as she watched them, and Harry decided this was a good a time as any to clue Ron in.

“Well,” said Harry conversationally. “I’m dating someone now.” Ron goggled at him.

“You didn’t write about that! Blimey, who?” Ron replied in surprise, and Draco smirked, before sitting down next to Harry and pressing his lips to Harry’s. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of Draco’s lips on his and the smell of mint; but Harry heard, as if from far away, Ron’s shocked sputters, and it took a great deal of willpower   
to stop kissing Draco and turn to his two friends again. Draco had a satisfied smile on his face next to him, chuckling.

“Oh,” said Ron, looking rather as though he’d been struck over the head with a broomstick. Hermione was still beaming at the pair of them next to Ron.

“Well- congratulations!” she exclaimed. Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“We’re not married, Hermione, calm down.” he reprimanded, but it went right over her head, Harry could tell.

“I’m so glad for the both of you,” she went on. “The both of you needed something, well, happier in your life!” Harry snorted.

“Since when are you a therapist, Hermione?”

“What’s a therapist?” interjected Draco.

“It’s a job that Muggles can have. You basically go to someone and talk about your problems and feelings and they give you advice and stuff.” explained Harry, watching with amusement as Draco raised his eyebrows at this.

“Interesting,” was his only comment, and Harry turned to Ron, wanting to see his reaction to all of this.

He looked still kind of surprised, but not disgusted or hateful like those two people Harry and Draco had encountered in the hallways. When he met Harry’s eyes he coughed awkwardly.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not bloody surprised,” Ron said, a note of amusement in his voice. “But now that Draco’s not a git- well not as much of a git-”

“Thanks ever so much, Ronald-” retorted Draco. Hermione laughed.

“Then I guess whatever makes you happy. I’m glad for you guys.” Ron finished firmly, and Harry felt a rush of relief. That was the best he could hope for, really. He exchanged a grin with Ron, feeling the comfortable familiarity of being around his best mate again.

“Honestly, I’m not that surprised.” said Hermione nonchalantly.

“Oh?” responded Draco.

“Well, you two have always been, well, a big presence in each other’s lives. It’s just changed from a negative presence to a positive one,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. Draco blinked at her, and so did Harry.

“If you say so,” replied Harry vaguely. He didn’t want to get philosophical again, especially about his and Draco’s ‘presences’ in each other lives. He’d leave that to Hermione.

“Oh, you know what else I’m looking forward to now?” said Draco with an evil grin. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Seeing Finnegan’s fucking face when he sees us.” Draco said with relish, smirking, and Ron snorted. Harry sighed and shook his head, while Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

Twenty minutes later, when Ron and Draco were having an enthusiastic bickering match over Quidditch, while trying to also do Ron’s homework (it was very amusing) Hermione came over and sat beside Harry.

“Hey,” Harry said with a smile. Hermione, however, had a more serious expression.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered, under the cover of the two boys arguing loudly behind her. “With other students. I don’t want to see you or Draco get hurt by   
someone.” Harry nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it. We’re just going to try to ignore it.” replied Harry, uncomfortably aware that maybe what Hermione was implying was right and they should have a better plan. Hermione frowned slightly.

“I know Draco won’t want protecting,” she continued. “But maybe one of us three should stay with him. So he’s not alone and people won’t try to target him for being with you. I’m not sure all of it will just be verbal slander that you can just ignore, Harry.”

Harry sighed. They hadn’t really thought of that, had they? Another reason he was eternally glad to have Hermione as a friend. She always helped him see things he couldn’t before.

“You have a point.” Harry admitted. “I don’t want that happening to him.”

“Then I’ll talk to Ron and we’ll try to always have someone with him outside of classes and the common room? At least for the first few days?”

“Yeah.” agreed Harry, hoping against hope that nothing would happen. Suddenly he understood how Draco felt when he had said he didn’t want Harry dealing with shit because of him. Now Harry was the one not wanting Draco to be an even bigger target for resentful students because they were dating.

But they would get through it together. Harry knew they would.


	18. Chapter 18

“Draco!” said Pansy in delight as he sat down next to her that evening in the common room, Blaise next to her. “You’re back!”

“Obviously,” replied Draco, smirking, but accepted a tight hug from her and a welcoming nod from Blaise.

So far the day hadn’t been that bad. He’d gone to classes, both of which he’d shared with Hermione and Daphne, Ancient Runes and Charms. He’d had to endure some rude mutterings, but all in all not too bad.

Yet. Draco wasn’t stupid enough to think nothing worse would happen.

But for now he could relax a little bit in the company of two of the only three Slytherins he trusted. Daphne had been sitting with them and Draco had already witnessed Pansy’s delighted reaction to Daphne dating a french boy (“Sounds wonderful, darling.”) before Daphne had gone up to her dorm early to write a letter to Simon, throwing a knowing look at Draco. She knew, and he knew, he should tell Pansy about him dating Harry before a rumor reached her. She would be horrendous otherwise. So here he was.

He’d already told them one thing about France- his encounters with Theo, to Pansy’s cackles and Blaise’s snorts. He wasn’t too enthusiastic about telling them about Harry.

“So how was it in France otherwise?” asked Blaise, a cool tone of disinterest in his voice. But then again, he always sounded like that. His father had some things in common with Draco’s father; molding your child exactly how you wanted them. The only difference was that Blaise’s father was not currently locked up in Azkaban.

“It was nice,” said Draco nonchalantly. “I got to have decent coffee for once.”

“Draco, tell us the interesting stuff,” Pansy insisted, buffing her nails. Draco rolled his eyes and prepared to drop his bomb on them. “The other interesting stuff,” Pansy amended, obviously having forgotten and then remembered about Theo.

“Well,” he said slowly, aware of both their eyes on him. “I’m dating someone now.”

As expected, Pansy let out a little shriek, drawing every eye in the common room. Draco raised his eyebrows at her, Blaise sniggering across from them.

“Thanks, Pansy,” Draco muttered wryly, waiting until all of the eighth years around them lost interest in the trio of Slytherins.

“So?” Pansy prodded, albeit quieter than before. “Who is it? Please tell me I know them.”

“If you make any loud noise when I tell you I will throw you off the Astronomy Tower.” Draco warned, and she nodded impatiently, waiting eagerly. Blaise also had a look of thinly veiled curiosity on his face and he leaned forward to catch Draco’s next words.

Draco exhaled and sent up a silent prayer.

“Well, I’m dating-”

“Hey, love,” came a lazy voice from behind them, and Harry dropped down next to them, a mischievous smirk printed on his face. Draco glared at him.

“Why do you always have to interrupt?” he snapped at Harry, as Pansy’s mouth dropped open and Blaise blinked slowly.

“You were taking so long, I thought I’d come and help you out.” Harry said smoothly, grinning. Merlin. I’m going to murder my boyfriend, thought Draco in exasperation. He should have known Harry would want to do something like this. He supposed he was at least glad that Harry wasn’t quite dumb enough to kiss him in front of all the eighth years.

“You’re dating Potter,” said Blaise slowly, but quietly.

“Yes,” replied Draco, eyeing Pansy sitting on the other side of him. She looked quite composed, shockingly.

“And you didn’t tell me?” she hissed, smacking him, and Blaise snorted. Draco raised his arms to fend her off.

“I wasn’t going to put that in a letter!” he protested, and Pansy let out an impressive drafty sigh.

“Well you better start talking, because I want to know everything,” she ordered. “Potter, you’re dismissed.”

Now Draco was the one to snicker as Harry blinked in surprise before leaving, throwing a smirk at Draco over his shoulder. Draco rolled his eyes and started to talk in an undertone to Pansy and Blaise.

Ten minutes later he was finally done and he sat back in his seat, arms crossed. Most of the eighth years had gone up to their dorms while he was talking, as it was getting a bit late. Draco could see Harry, Hermione, and Weasley over in the corner, and he caught Harry’s eye. Harry raised his eyebrows, and Draco flipped him off. He heard Harry laughing as the Gryffindor turned back around.

“Well,” said Blaise. “As long as I don’t have to walk in on you two like we did with you and Theo, whatever floats your boat.” Draco snorted and Blaise went up to his dorm, patting Draco on the head, chuckling when Draco smacked his hand away with a growl.

He turned to Pansy, who was scrutinizing him closely.

“You’re happy with him?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes,” replied Draco without hesitation. He didn’t mind talking about this with her. He’d known her for so long it was like talking to a sister, and she never judged him. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

“Well, you still should have told me earlier. Don’t lie, we both know you know how to make a letter tamper-proof.” she chided. Draco sighed.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” he said.

“Just be careful,” she replied darkly. “If people go after you because you’re with him, and you get hurt, I will have words with him. Make sure he knows that.”

“Duly noted.” Draco answered somberly. He knew what “having words” entailed, and Harry would not come out of that without damage.

Pansy poked his cheek and went upstairs, and Draco wearily walked over to the three Gryffindors sequestered on a sofa in the corner of the common room, sitting down next to Harry, who curved a steady arm around him and tugged Draco against him.

“How’d it go?” asked Hermione. She had enchanted a pair of knitting needles, which were clacking busily in front of her, making something that looked- like a blob.

“What is that?” Draco said, nodding at the knitted yarn. Ron snorted.

“That’s the latest edition of the woolly bladder.” he said, and Hermione glared at him.

“It’s a hat, Ronald,” she snapped. “Well?” she said to Draco.

“It went alright, actually. Except for this twat dropping in,” Draco said, glaring half-heartedly at Harry. It was hard to be mad at the person who you were cozied up with.  
Harry grinned. “It was fun,” he said, entirely too proud of himself.

“Oh shut up, Potty.”

“So they’re alright with it?” said Hermione, looking a bit skeptical.

“Surprisingly, yes. Although Pansy wanted me to tell you-” he glanced at Harry with amusement- “that she would have words with you if anything happened to me.” Harry looked appropriately humbled by this.

“When you say she’ll have words with me,” said Harry. “Why do I get the impression that’s a very tame version of what she actually means?” Draco chuckled.

“Last time she had words with someone they came out of it with two black eyes and a cracked rib.” Draco said conversationally.

“Wonderful.” replied Harry, shaking his head slightly, and Draco chuckled.

….

Over the next few days, Harry relaxed back into the familiar Hogwarts schedule and surroundings. With the exception of his, Hermione’s, and Ron’s secret guard schedule around Draco. So far it had been going smoothly; no one had done anything worse than glare or mutter under their breath at Draco, and Draco didn’t seem to mind that, as the blond would just stare them down until they looked away. Harry had been on the receiving end of those glares in the past and would have pitied anyone who got one, except now they did kind of deserve it.

Now they were in Potions class, taking notes on Everlasting Elixirs. It was quiet, except for Professor Athme’s steady voice and the scribbling of many quills.

“...many different types and uses for this Elixir. Since the effects of the Everlasting Elixirs are permanent, you must…”

Harry glanced over at Draco next to him, who was writing neatly and concisely and biting his lip in concentration. His notes were at a stark contrast to Harry’s messy, meandering scrawl. He always found it difficult to take notes when the teacher was talking; often he wrote too slow and couldn’t catch up, or couldn’t remember the whole sentence he was supposed to be writing.

“Can I borrow your notes after class?” whispered Harry, and Draco spared a glance at him, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“If you shut up,” Draco murmured, returning to his notes, and Harry sat back in his seat, relieved. Now he just had to look like he was taking notes. Much easier.

At the end of class they were the last ones to leave, and Draco pointedly ignored all the nasty looks people gave him as they passed while he packed up. It was the last class of the day, so Harry and Draco headed back to the common room. The shoulder strap of his school bag dug into his shoulder as they walked through the stone hallways.

“Want to go flying later?” offered Harry as they took a shortcut through a door disguising itself at a bit of wall. Draco was walking in front of him, as this little passage was only wide enough for one person. It was useful, though, it saved them the trouble of navigating the moving stairways.

“Sure,” replied Draco, pushing aside the tapestry covering the other end of the passage and holding it back so Harry could come out. “Just us?”

“Yeah.” said Harry, feeling a small thrill of anticipation at the promise of a Seeker’s game. “It would be nice to be alone for a while.” They were constantly surrounded by other students, and hadn’t had a chance in a few days to just be together. Or snog properly. Which Harry really wanted to do.

“Alright. Oh, and I’m writing back to Camille and everyone tonight, if you want to add your bit to the letter.” Draco said as they stopped in front of the portrait that led into the eighth year common room. “Fanged Geranium.” Draco added, with a note of distaste in his voice, and the portrait swung open.

“Brilliant, thanks.” said Harry. If he didn’t write soon, Amelie would probably send him a Howler. He chuckled as they passed by a knot of Ravenclaws and went up the steps to their dorm. “Why don’t you like the password?”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” responded Draco huffily, dropping his bag on his bed.

“I can tell, though.” Harry replied, waving at Dean and Neville, who were talking about some class over on Neville’s bed. They smiled back; they were two of the people who hadn’t been really opposed to Harry and Draco dating. Dean had never really had a problem with Draco, plus he was a very peaceful person. And Draco had apologized to Neville one night in the dorm, so although they weren’t friends, or even friendly, Neville didn’t hate Draco.

“It’s dumb. Who uses a plant as a password?”

“Were the Slytherin passwords never random like that?”

“No. Always Latin phrases or-”

“Pureblood?” teased Harry.

“Yeah. Things like that. Not random gibberish or plants or household objects or whatever the hell Gryffindor passwords were.” Draco shot back, a smirk toying at the edges of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah.” said Harry, shaking his head. “Can you help me with the Transfiguration essay?”

“It’s due in two days, Harry.” sniggered Draco. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I know, you git, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Ask Hermione, I’m busy.” Draco said, pulling out a book.

“Doing what?” asked Harry indignantly.

“Reading. I know it’s a foreign concept to you Gryffindors- oops, sorry, was that too complicated a word-”

“Ha ha, Draco.” Harry said, flipping him off. Draco smirked and did it right back. “See you at dinner, then.” Now he had to go find Hermione. Or Ron, seeing as she had helped Ron with the essay and Ron would let him copy.

“See you,” repeated Draco, now immersed in his book. Harry sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused, before heading down to the common room with his school things.  
He found Hermione sitting at a table with Sue Li working on Arithmancy, and sat down next to her.

“Hey, can you help me with the Transfiguration essay?”

“Ask Draco, I’m busy.”

“He’s busy too,” replied Harry wryly. “Do you know where-”

“Ron’s in detention with Professor Eagry, Dean and Seamus dared him to break a window.” Hermione said, her disapproval of this evident in her voice. Harry chuckled and took out a roll of parchment. He’d have to do this by himself, then. Though Hermione would probably help him if he struggled enough.

An hour later he was about halfway done, but he shoved it in his bag for later and went down to dinner with Hermione and Draco, Harry and Hermione on either side of him. Thankfully Draco hadn’t caught on yet that they were- for lack of a better word- protecting him.

Dinner went by quickly, and the three of them were joined by a chastened Ron halfway through. Before long Harry and Draco left the other two and headed outside, down to the Quidditch Pitch. It was chilly outside, being February, and the sky was streaked with orange and yellow as the sun set. Harry could hear the rustling of tree branches in the wind overhead.

“Weasley wants me to help him think of a Valentine’s day gift for Hermione,” Draco said, sniggering. Harry laughed, but stopped when a more sobering thought struck him- What were they going to do for Valentine’s day? Merlin, it was like Christmas gifts all over again.

They walked to the broom shed in comfortable silence, grabbing their brooms. Harry had bought a new Firebolt over the summer, and Draco had his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Somehow Draco’s broom looked newer than Harry’s, though he’d gotten in in second year. Probably because he cleaned it. Harry hadn’t really been doing that lately.

“Ready?” said Draco, fingers clutched around the struggling Snitch.

“Ready,” replied Harry, grinning. Draco released the Snitch and they watched it zoom away into the dusky twilight, giving it a minute’s head start before they flew into the air.

….

Draco moved smoothly through the air, his eyes scanning over the dusky Quidditch Pitch as he looped wide, lazy circles around the pitch. Harry was doing the same thing opposite him, the both of them retracing the same paths over and over. It was nice to be up in the air again, feeling the wind on his face, and being away from all the people.

A flash of gold. Over by one of the goalposts. Draco locked his gaze on it and lay horizontal on his broom as he flew towards it, watching the Snitch flit this way and that as he approached. He could hear the rushing sound of Harry flying behind him, catching up fast. Draco clutched his broom tightly and shot forward, then went vertical, following the Snitch into the sky.

A feeling of exhilaration tingled through him, and he grinned, doing a loop as he tracked the little golden ball. Harry flew up beside him, shoving him aside with a smirk.

“Fuck off, Potter!” yelled Draco, laughing.

“Not a chance, Malfoy!” came Harry’s reply, and Draco rolled his eyes quickly before flying for the Snitch again.

They were high above the pitch now, the Snitch leading them on a merry chase through the air. As Draco made a tight dive, his broom jerked. Surprised, he clung on, a sense of alarm coursing through his brain. _What was going on?_

His broom jerked again, more violently, and with a brittle sound like ice cracking it snapped. He hung in the air for a split-second that felt like an eternity, his breath caught in his chest. And then suddenly he was falling.

“Draco!” Harry screamed from somewhere, but Draco didn’t know where he was. He was tumbling through the air, still clutching the two halves of his broken broom. His robes were dragging in the air as he fell. Someone was yelling- no, he was yelling. The ground was approaching, too fast, and Draco was still falling, and he couldn’t do anything, he’d left his wand in his dorm, and he let out a silent sob that even he couldn’t hear over the rushing of the wind in his ears, and he didn’t want to die-

And then an arm was wrapped tightly around his middle, halting his drop barely twenty feet above the grassy ground of the pitch. Harry.

They flew slowly to the ground, where Harry released his grip on Draco and Draco stumbled as he took a few shaky steps, sinking onto the grass. _I thought I was going to die. Why did I fall?_

"Merlin, what happened?"

“I don’t know,” he whispered. Everything around him seemed so still, so peaceful, like he hadn’t just been plummeting through the sky. “My broom, it was jerking and then it just- broke.”

Harry sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around Draco, enveloping him in a warm, reassuring embrace. It felt like the only real thing here. Something wet slipped off his chin and he raised trembling fingers, touching his chin and seeing the smear of blood on them. A piece of his broom must have hit him on the way down.

“That was- horrible,” whispered Draco finally, listening to Harry’s shallow breaths. Draco’s heart was pounding. He could hear it thumping, like it knew how close it had come to going silent and still. Harry exhaled.

“Merlin, don’t ever do that again.” Harry murmured. “I thought I wouldn’t reach you in time.” Draco let his head drop forward.

“I thought I was going to die,” he replied, and suddenly tears were streaming down his face, and Harry was clutching him tighter, and Draco could hear his own quiet, snuffling breaths. “I thought I was going to die,” he repeated, his voice trembling, and he was too tired and scared to be mad at himself for sounding so weak, though he hated it.

“I know,” Harry said, his hands rubbing comforting circles on Draco’s back. Draco pressed his brow into Harry’s shoulder, feeling a little calmer now. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, before Draco raised his head again, frowning at Harry’s robes.

“I got blood on your robes,” he said.

“I don’t care about that,” replied Harry. He stood up slowly, tugging Draco up with him. Draco felt kind of bad, now, for crying like a child all over Harry, and Harry could see this in his eyes because he wrapped a comforting arm around Draco’s waist, a steady presence that helped to center Draco as they walked. “And it’s alright to cry, Draco. That’s part of being human. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

“I didn’t say anything,” muttered Draco, feeling more like himself. Harry chuckled quietly.

“But I can tell.” he said, picking up his Firebolt. “Come on. Let’s go back to the school.”

“Aren’t you going to put your broom away?” Draco asked.

“No, we’re going to McGonagall.”

“Why?”

“Because someone cursed your broom, Draco. Someone tried to kill you.” said Harry darkly, and Draco shivered.

But by the time they reached the front doors of the castle, Draco’s fear and shock had morphed into anger. Who had tried to kill him? He knew why, because he was Draco Malfoy, but what scum had tried to kill him? And tried to kill him in that way, too. Some coward who couldn’t even try to kill him face to face. Pathetic.

“You didn’t see anyone, down at the pitch?” asked Harry as they walked through the doors. Harry took out his wand and locked the front doors. Probably so if the would-be killer was behind them, they couldn’t just stroll in after them.

“No,” said Draco. “I take it you didn’t either.” Harry nodded, his jaw set. Draco sighed.

Honestly, of course he was mad about this. But he understood why. Not that that made it alright, but… he understood. Many of the students here saw him as, well, evil. A Death Eater. They had good reason too, especially when they thought he was corrupting their golden boy.

“Let’s not go to the Headmistress,” said Draco. “I’m fine. It’s not like any harm was done. I’ll just bring my wand with me next time.” Harry stared at him.

“Draco, someone tried to kill you! You can’t just let them get away with it,” said Harry.

“No, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. If we go to McGonagall that won’t fix anything. You know that.” Draco argued. But Harry was scrutinizing him.

“Please don’t tell me you think that whoever tried to kill you was justified, or that you deserved it. That’s not true.” said Harry, and Draco bit his lip. Harry always read exactly how he felt. It was infuriating.

“It’s kind of true,” said Draco matter-of-factly, walking forward and turning into the corridor that would take them to the common room, not the Headmistress’s office. He heard Harry’s footsteps behind him.

“No, it’s not. Draco, stop.” Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and swung him around so they were face to face. “You don’t deserve to be killed for your past.” Draco sighed.

“I’ve done horrible things, Harry. You don’t get it. People have a right to hate me for what I’ve done, what I was in my past. I’m not just going to go through life without consequences.”

Draco didn’t know exactly why this feeling was coming on so strongly at the moment. He supposed it was being back at Hogwarts, remembering everything and seeing the hatred toward him that he’d forgotten in his time at Beauxbatons. It really had been like a dream there. The sort of life he could’ve had if he’d been a better person.

….

Harry gazed at Draco, somewhat at a loss for words. Draco was wrong about that, Harry knew that much, but how could he make Draco see that?

“Your past doesn’t define you. You are more than your mistakes,” Harry said fiercely. “You are a good person, I know you are. You don’t deserve to be punished.” He was searching Draco’s face, looking for some shred of information.

He knew how Draco felt about this subject, that part of him still loathed himself for the past. And Harry understood, he saw Draco’s reasons for this. But he also saw the boy he’d gone ice skating with, who tried on his glasses and helped him with panic attacks. Just a boy, like everyone else. Draco saw himself as fully responsible for every bad thing from   
the war, and Harry hated that he felt that way, because it was nowhere near true.

But he knew that scars that ran that deep would last a long, long time. It was a slow healing process, but Harry wanted to be there for Draco along the way.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” said Draco quietly. He sounded tired.

“Alright,” replied Harry softly, letting go of his gentle grip of Draco’s arm. Draco gave him the barest hint of a smile and slipped his hand into Harry’s as they resumed walking.   
Harry was glad Draco wasn’t angry with him, but he still wanted to talk with him about this later.

“Don’t tell Hermione about this,” insisted Draco, and though Harry wanted to protest he just nodded. Again, this was something to talk about later. It all tied back into the thing that Draco refused to address. Harry sighed.

“Fanged Geranium,” he said morosely, and the portrait swung open. They stepped through, Harry secretly scanning for anyone looking as though they’d been outside. He could ask Hermione if she’d seen anyone come in before them, as she was sitting at her normal desk in the common room and looked as though she’d been there for a while, but if it wasn’t an eighth year Harry didn’t have a clue how to find the culprit.

Draco let go of his hand and headed upstairs with a quiet “Good night, Harry.” Harry watched him ascend the staircase, feeling frustrated that Draco seemed determined to punish himself for things he couldn’t control and weren’t his fault. He blew out a breath and went to sit across from Hermione.

“Hey, Harry.” she said, looking up from her work. “Why do you have your broom?”

“Oh,” said Harry. “Er. No reason. I’ll be right back,” he added, and went to put it in his dorm. When he stashed it beside his bed and changed out of his Quidditch robes, Draco’s bed was silent, the hangings pulled around it entirely. Harry went back to the common room and rejoined Hermione.

“How was flying?” she asked, closing a book and flipping through another one.

“Alright,” Harry replied vaguely. He saw Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini sitting in a corner, talking with Daphne Greengrass. Suddenly, he was struck by an idea. It might actually yield something, whether help in finding whoever attacked Draco or advice on taking to Draco about his self-deprecation. Or it would get Draco mad at him. Either one. “I’ll be right back,” he told Hermione, and before he could hesitate he went over to the Slytherins.

“Hey, Harry,” said Daphne warmly as he sat down with them, but Pansy and Blaise looked at him with disinterest.

“Potter,” sniffed Pansy, eyeing him like she thought he was going to throw something at her, “What have we done to earn the privilege of your presence, exactly?”

“Pansy, be nice,” chided Daphne, and Blaise sniggered.

“Well actually,” began Harry uncertainly, feeling out of his depth, “I, er, need your help.”

“All of us?” said Blaise skeptically.

“Depends,” replied Harry vaguely.

“Well, do tell us what this is all about.” said Pansy. Harry swallowed. Yes, he was definitely out of his depth. He wasn’t witty enough to deal with three Slytherins, let alone Pansy.

“Don’t freak out,” he muttered. “Someone tried to kill Draco just now.” Daphne gasped quietly and Blaise raised his eyebrows. Pansy was scrutinizing him sharply.

“But he’s alright, of course. I saw him just now. Thanks to you, I suppose.” she said flatly.

“Er, yeah, but he did fall like two hundred feet from his broom. Someone cursed it and it broke while we were playing Quidditch,” explained Harry, somewhat nervously. He hadn’t forgotten Pansy’s promise to have ‘words’ with him if Draco got hurt. “And I’d like your help trying to find out who it is. If you think it’s possible. Also Draco has this absurd idea that he has to atone for every single bad thing that’s a product of the war and he doesn’t even blame the person who tried to kill him and he won’t talk about it.”

“He does that,” said Pansy. At least she looked a little more interested now. “I’ve never broached that subject with him. Usually if he needs to talk about it, he will. If he doesn’t, I leave him be.” Harry frowned.

“But if people keep trying to attack him-” he replied, but Blaise cut in.

“Did you see anyone while you were there? Someone could have done it earlier. Anyone with access to the broomshed could’ve placed a curse on his broom,” he said reasonably.

“No, I didn’t see anyone,” said Harry, feeling distinctly foolish for asking for their help with so little to go on. “No sign of any spells, either. No flashes of light, no noises.”

“I doubt you’ll find them, then,” replied Daphne matter-of-factly, and Harry sighed.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Brilliant.” he said unenthusiastically. “Thanks anyway.”

“I assume you don’t want darling Draco to know about this little chat?” Pansy smirked.

“Yeah.” replied Harry. “He already told me not to tell Hermione.”

“Yes, well.” said Daphne hastily, as Pansy had opened her mouth, most likely to aim some insult at Hermione. “Sorry we couldn’t be of more help. You aren’t leaving him alone, are you?” she added. “You’re staying with him around school?”

“Yeah, Hermione, Ron and I are staying with him as much as we can.”

“Tell Hermione I’ll help as well,” said Daphne, glancing at Pansy and Blaise.

“Us too,” offered Blaise, and Harry blinked in surprise.

“Oh, alright. Thanks.” he replied awkwardly.

“Goodbye,” said Pansy sweetly, and Harry left somewhat gladly, to Blaise’s and Pansy’s snickers and Daphne’s scolding. Well, that could have gone worse, thought Harry wryly as he returned to Hermione’s table.

“What was that all about?” she asked curiously, and Harry coughed.

“Oh,” he said, uncomfortably aware that he had promised Draco not to tell Hermione. “They said they’d help us and Ron- well- guard Draco,” he told her in an undertone. It was the truth. Just not all of it.

“That’s good of them, I suppose,” Hermione said, casting a slightly disdainful look over at Pansy. “I’ll tell Ron tomorrow, and talk to Daphne about it.”

“Brilliant,” said Harry, who was weary of all the talking and scheming and his boyfriend falling from his broomstick in a murder attempt. What he needed was a good long sleep. Maybe that would help him figure out how to talk to Draco about his self-punishment-people-have-a-right-to-try-and-kill-me-thing. “Well, I’m off to bed, then. G’night.”

"Goodnight."


	19. Chapter 19

“So what do you think Hermione would like?”

Draco pushed down his feelings of impatience and tried to be patient.

“Dunno,” he said. “You’re her boyfriend, you tell me.”

It was February seventh, and Weasley was freaking out over the upcoming Valentine’s Day. More specifically, what to get Hermione for Valentine’s Day, and he had this absurd idea that Draco knew the perfect thing. So here they were, in the common room after dinner, while Harry and Hermione did homework in the library.

“But I can’t think of anything,” protested a frazzled Weasley, gazing at him beseechingly. Draco sighed. Weasley wouldn’t leave him alone until Draco helped him, probably, so he had to give him something.

“Alright,” replied Draco grudgingly. “I feel like Hermione wouldn’t mind a romantic gesture. Maybe… fancy dinner in Hogsmeade? I dunno. Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. Or if she’s ever talked about a hobby, or something she’s interested in besides the usual...something that shows you pay attention to what she says?”

“That’s an idea,” said Weasley thoughtfully.

“I still don’t know why you’re asking me. It’s not like I have a clue what I’m getting Harry, either. You should ask him. He’s better at this relationship stuff.”

“I did ask him.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t have a clue for Hermione either. He just told me about the stargazing thing you two did and suggested I do an ‘experience’ instead of buying her something.” Weasley   
said, shrugging.

“Do that, then.” replied Draco, picking up his book again. “And go away, I have to finish this by Friday for Potions class.” Weasley raised his eyebrows and huffed but walked away, and Draco returned his attention to _Rungty’s Theoretical and Experimental Applications in NEWT Level Potions._

What was he going to do for Harry? Draco frowned slightly. He hadn’t a clue. He didn’t think he could buy Harry anything else, he’d had enough trouble with that at Christmas. And Harry would probably dream up another ‘experience’ and bring Draco… well, he wasn’t sure, but something interesting or beautiful and cool. Like he’d done at Christmas. Something that was very difficult to match. Draco scowled and focused on the book again, staring at the same passage he’d reread three times.

_...in 34 B.C. Rungty discovered that moonlace and powdered griffin claw, when combined over a Gubraithian Fire, created the potent substance known as…_

“Blast,” muttered Draco, closing the book with an audible slam. Maybe he could just go to Harry and make him agree to not celebrate Valentine’s Day. Draco wrinkled his nose. It was a horrid holiday, really. Too much pink and frilliness and glitter and squealing. He had a sudden and vivid memory of Valentine’s Day in his second year, when Lockhart had decorated (Draco only used that word for lack of a worse one) the Great Hall, and sent those absurd little dwarves or gnomes around with singing Valentine’s. Draco smirked suddenly.

“What are you smirking about?” came a familiar voice, and Draco looked up to see Harry and Hermione making their way through the portrait hole.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,” sang Draco, smirking, and Harry flushed from embarrassment while Hermione and Draco laughed.

“That wasn’t my fault,” said Harry exasperatedly, nudging Draco over so he could sit down next to him on the sofa. “Blame Ginny.”

“I think I did,” replied Draco, and Harry chuckled.

“Right. Didn’t you yell at her and tell her I didn’t like her valentine?” he pointed out, and Draco shrugged.

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“So you were jealous of her?” teased Hermione, and Draco glared at her.

“No,” he said. “Back then I hated Harry and his toad eyes.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Harry indignantly. “I don’t have toad eyes.” Draco snorted.

“How do you know?” Draco replied, amused.

“You wouldn’t have dated me if I had toad eyes,” Harry said, his eyes twinkling.

“Probably not,” agreed Draco conversationally, and when Harry pouted he gave him a quick kiss. “You do have nice eyes, though. Distinctly un-toad like. Very green.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, grinning. “You must be in a good mood, giving me compliments.”

“Not really. My brain’s just frazzled from this book we had to read for Potions.” Draco said wryly, tapping the cover with a finger.

“Oh, I didn’t read that.” replied Harry. “Do we have to?”

“For our next class, yeah.”

“Will you just tell me what it’s about when you finish it?”

“Harry.” reprimanded Hermione sternly. “You should read it yourself.”

“Listen to her, she’s very wise,” added Draco, and Harry sighed exaggeratedly. “A please would be nice, by the way.”

“Please?”

“Fine,” Draco agreed, and Hermione tutted at the both of them. Draco snickered.

“Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow,” she said, still somewhat disapprovingly, and went up to her dorm. Harry threw an arm around Draco, pulling him closer, and Draco let him since they were alone in the common room except for the Patil twins.

“Did Ron ask you for romantic advice today? He did for me,” said Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, he did, he wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave him some half assed suggestion.” Draco muttered, and Harry laughed.

They talked for a little while longer, then Harry went up to the dorm and Draco took one last stab at finishing the last couple of chapters of the book, sitting by the flickering fire. He heard a tapping noise on one of the windows, and went to go open it. A chilly wind swept in, making the flames dance, and an owl swept in as well, a letter clutched in its beak. Draco took the letter and the owl flew back outside.

“Mother,” he said to himself, recognizing the elegant handwriting. He opened it and sat back down again.

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, darling. Thank you for the scarf, it’s quite lovely. And no, I wasn’t alone for Christmas, Andromeda joined me. As well as the werewolf’s child, he’s a sweet thing. Everything is going fine here, how are your studies? And tell me more about France. You know I love to hear about your day. Is there any chance of you coming to visit on a weekend? Let me know._

_With love, Mother_

Draco smiled. That was good, she’d had company for Christmas. He was glad she and her sister were reconciled. He could probably sneak away on a weekend and visit her, McGonagall was pretty lax about the eighth years. Although he wasn’t just any eighth year, technically he was still on probation, but that didn’t mean much at the moment.

He still hadn’t told his mother about Harry, though he didn’t think she’d be mad. He just...was hesitant about it, especially through a letter. He couldn’t list a solid reason, even though they were out to the whole school. He sighed. He’d write back to her tomorrow, try to set up a date when he could visit. Maybe he could tell her about Harry then.

….

“...two feet of parchment on the history of the Bubble-Head Charm, and on the charm itself. Practice before next class. Dismissed!”

Harry scribbled down his homework before joining the flood of people leaving Charms class and spilling out into the hallway. Now he could go to lunch, and then he had Potions. 

He still needed to ask Draco about the contents of that book they were supposed to read. Hopefully nothing too complicated.

He made his way to the Great Hall, dodging Peeves, who was cackling as he dropped inkwells onto the shrieking students in the hallway. A few prefects were bellowing at him, and some people were screaming as they dove out of the line of fire. Harry held his bag over his head and ducked around a corner before entering the Great Hall.

“Hey,” greeted Draco once Harry reached the eighth year table. “What’s going on outside?” His gaze was fixed curiously on a couple of Hufflepuffs, who had ink running down their hair.

“Peeves,” said Harry by way of explanation, sitting down and serving himself a slice of steak and kidney pie.

“Ah.” Draco replied, smirking a little.

“So what was that book about?” asked Harry, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“I can’t explain it to you right now, it’ll take too long.” he said, lounging in his seat with an easy grace. Harry frowned.

“We aren’t having a test, though, are we?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Alright.”

As Harry ate he pondered. Pondered Draco, mostly. He was acting as though nothing had ever happened, as though someone hadn’t tried to kill him just a few days ago. Harry hadn’t tried to bring up Draco’s I-deserve-to-be-punished-for-the-past thing, figuring it was better to figure out what he wanted to say than to just charge in and blurt out whatever came to mind. It was definitely a sensitive topic. Honestly he didn’t even know what to call it. Every time he thought about it he called it something different.

He still wished they could’ve figured out who cursed Draco’s broomstick, but Daphne had been right in the sense that it was virtually impossible to discover who it was. All they had to go on was perhaps that the person had cursed the broom before they’d gone flying, which meant anyone with access to the broomshed was a possible suspect. Which meant the Quidditch house teams. But it would be relatively easy for someone to enter it, even if they weren’t technically allowed in there. So that was about as useful as trying to narrow it down by who disliked Draco, because aside from some of the eighth years, about everyone disliked Draco. To put it mildly. So Harry had conceded, grudgingly, and just resolved to stay as close to his boyfriend as he could.

“Are you going to get a new broomstick?” Hermione asked Draco, who shrugged.

“At some point. Not at this second, though.”

“You can use mine,” offered Harry, and Draco smiled ruefully.

“We can’t have Seeker’s games on one broom, Harry.” he pointed out, and Harry frowned slightly.

“Oh, right.” he said.

“I can borrow Blaise’s broom, though.” mused Draco, picking at his food. Harry perked up a little. Ron leaned forward to speak.

“I watched last week’s match,” he said, shaking his head. Harry lifted an eyebrow. He hadn’t been going to the school Quidditch games, instead using that time to spend alone with Draco, since most of the school was out on the pitch.

“And?” Harry inquired.

“Gryffindor won, but barely. Ginny and Demelza are still doing great, but the new Seeker isn’t up to your level. The Beaters are still doing good, and the new Keeper isn’t too bad.” Ron sighed.

“Ginny got Quidditch Captain, right?” asked Hermione, and Ron nodded. Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. Ginny would definitely make a good Quidditch captain.

“We should get going, Harry.” said Draco, standing up. “Potions.”

“Oh-yeah.” Harry joined him and they said goodbye to Hermione and Ron before walking out of the Great Hall and into the relatively empty hallways.

“I got a letter from my mother yesterday,” said Draco casually.

“Oh?” replied Harry, not really knowing what to say. He hadn’t seen Narcissa Malfoy since the trials last summer. She’d been very kind to him, and he’d thanked her for what she had done.

Draco glanced at him, a small smirk on his face.

“Yeah. She wants me to come visit. And apparently she spent Christmas with her sister and the baby.” Draco said, and Harry smiled in reminisce.

“Teddy’s sweet,” he replied. Draco sighed and shook his head. “What, you don’t like kids?”

“Honestly, I’ve never really dealt with kids.” Draco said dubiously, and Harry snickered.

“That’s...interesting,” Harry replied. Draco rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder into Harry’s as he spoke.

“It’s not like I had much chance,” Draco said defensively. “The only person I know that’s younger than me is Astoria.”

“Yeah, I see your point.” replied Harry amicably as they turned a hallway, entering one of the spiral staircases that descended into the bowels of the school, and came out near their Potions classroom. It got distinctly colder as they went down the steps, and the air became more dank and musty. “It’s so cold down here,” complained Harry, and Draco smirked at him.

“No it isn’t,” he teased. “Maybe for your delicate Gryffindor senses it is.” Harry smirked back, letting his eyes wander over Draco’s face until the Slytherin had a slight flush in his pale cheeks. Harry leaned in slowly, grazing his lips over Draco’s softly, barely touching, before pulling back and continuing to walk to class. He glanced over his shoulder, grinning, and saw a blushing, indignant Draco catching up with him.

“Fuck you, Potter.” Draco snapped, and Harry chuckled. They resumed walking to Potions, walking near a Ravenclaw boy who was pale and drawn and gave Draco a hateful glare, which Draco ignored pointedly. The blond took it a step further and grabbed Harry’s tie, pulling him in for a long, slow, burning kiss that made the hateful-looking boy cough in   
disgust as he passed them. When they pulled apart Harry had to press his lips together to keep from laughing, and Draco had a smug, satisfied look on his face.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the Ravenclaw boy, expecting to find him already gone, but instead he was filled with alarm as he saw the boy with a clenched jaw, his wand aimed at Draco and his hand already moving to cast a curse.

Harry’s eyes widened and he lunged in front of Draco as a stream of black light shot from the boy’s wand. As he collided with Draco, pushing him aside, the jet of light hit his chest and a feeling like ice spread quickly through Harry’s body. His legs gave out and suddenly his body was hitting the stone floor.

He could hear someone screaming, as if from far away. Someone saying his name. But his ears were buzzing and his vision was blurring and he found that he couldn’t breath and the feeling of ice changed to a burning sensation, needles were stabbing him and pain was erupting in every cell of his body and then everything went black and Harry knew nothing more.

….

“How is he?”

Draco looked around and saw Daphne standing beside his chair, a concerned expression on his face. He swallowed.

“Not great,” he whispered.

After Harry had been hit with the curse he’d sunk to the floor, and Draco had been so shocked. It had all happened so fast. But he’d scrambled to his knees and tried every healing spell he knew, his hands shaking, forgetting all about the boy who’d cursed Harry. But nothing had worked, except a stasis spell he’d learned at Beauxbatons. All the while Harry had been trembling, his limbs jerking, and tears of pain had leaked out of his eyes. The stasis spell had been the only thing that had kept him alive long enough for one of their classmates to walk onto the scene and run for help.

Draco’s mind had gone blank with fear, and the only thought he’d had was No, please no, hold on. Harry. Please don’t leave me. It had felt like a nightmare. Later they’d told him he’d been screaming Harry’s name. Screaming for help.

So Parvati Patil, who’d happened upon the scene, had ran to get the nearest professor, and they’d brought Harry up to the hospital wing. He’d gone unconscious at some point before then when Parvati had ran for help, his eyes fluttering shut, and Draco had pressed his hand to Harry’s neck, searching desperately for a pulse. After what had felt like an eternity, he’d found it, and an immense wave of relief had swept through him.

Once they’d gotten to the hospital wing he’d been given something for shock, and once it had been poured down his throat he’d been able to tell them what had happened. 

They’d found the Ravenclaw boy who’d cast the curse, a sixth year named Donovan Johnson, and when Draco had seen him enter the hospital wing under guard of two professors, it had taken Blaise and Ron to hold him back from just killing the boy then and there.

Under interrogation they discovered that he’d used a little known curse that none of them except McGonagall had ever heard of. According to her it had been used during the first war, and it was a spell that would burn you up, slowly, with immense pain, from the inside out. Draco had thrown up when he’d heard her say that.

But after examining him, and bringing in professionals from St. Mungo’s, they’d determined that the Johnson boy hadn’t had enough power to cast the curse in full, so it wasn’t and hadn’t been burning Harry up from the inside out. It was just crippling, burning pain, almost enough to shut down Harry’s heart. Thankfully, it hadn’t, thanks to Draco’s stasis charm and sheer luck. And Harry had remained at Hogwarts, since his condition was deemed too risky to move him or Apparate with him.

But Harry hadn’t woken up, two days later.

Madam Pomfrey and the St Mungo’s Healers had been working nonstop, and they’d managed to lessen the pain, although they hadn’t found a way to end the curse, which was still going on, causing Harry pain bad enough to keep him knocked out just from that. Draco had been keeping vigil by Harry’s bedside for the last two days, watching him as he lay still and praying helplessly.

He’d never hated himself more. It was his fault this had happened. If he hadn’t been dating Harry, they wouldn’t have been together, and Harry wouldn’t have been hit by this curse.

“They expelled the Ravenclaw boy. And the Healers say that they’re getting close to a counter-curse.” said Daphne, laying her hand on Draco’s shoulder in a useless gesture of comfort. Draco felt numb. He didn’t respond to her words. “It’s not your fault, Draco.” Daphne whispered, and Draco turned around sharply.

“Not my fault?” he repeated scathingly. “Of course it’s my fault. If I wasn’t with him he wouldn’t have been hurt. It was me that boy was aiming for.”

“Draco-”

“Go away, Daphne.” he said flatly. She gave him a sad look, a pitying look, and Draco resisted the urge to scream at her. Why was she feeling bad for him? It was Harry who was lying in the hospital bed, Harry who was suffering beyond imagination. Because of Draco.

Daphne left and he resumed his silent vigil, his silent prayers, his eyes on Harry. He looked almost as if he was sleeping peacefully. If only.

Some time later Hermione and Ron joined him again. The three of them had stayed with Harry for the first few hours, but then the other two had left to get food and sleep. They’d been bringing Draco food whenever they came back to the hospital wing-which was often- but he ignored the offered sustenance.

“No difference?” asked Ron quietly.

“No.”

“You should go sleep, Draco.” said Hermione gently.

“I’m not leaving.”

Hermione got up to go speak to the Healers; Draco heard their soft murmurings of conversation on the other side of the room. She’d been looking through obscure healing books, and had picked Draco’s brain on all the spells he knew, to see if any could be used or combined to be used. So far, nothing had shown itself.

“He’ll be alright.” said Ron, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Draco. He was sitting in a chair next to Draco, watching Harry. Draco didn’t say anything.

The knot of Healers, plus Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Hermione, rejoined Ron and Draco at Harry’s bedside.

“We may have found something,” announced one of the Healers, and Draco looked up sharply, hope winding through his chest. “Ms. Granger discovered mention of the curse used in a volume-” she tapped the cover of a large, dusty book- “and while there are no clear counter-curses or means to stop the spell-which, as we all know, remains ongoing until removed or the victim dies- but there was also mention of an old healing spell.” Now Hermione opened the book and began to read a passage.

“The Conjunctio Cordis spell- or the heart linking spell- creates a magical link between the hearts and health of two people. It has been used to save someone dying from a wound or curse by linking the wounded’s heart and health with that of a healthy person. This will cause the wounded person to heal much faster and remove any curses from their person. However, it is extremely difficult to cast and can result in the death of both the healthy and wounded person if done incorrectly. If done correctly, the wounded person should begin to heal, wake, or be free from any curses. Note, however, that after the first initial use, where the healthy person helps to heal the wounded person while remaining healthy, whatever wound, pain, curse, or disease that impacts one person will also equally impact the other, and if one of them dies, so will the other. This spell is irremovable.”

Hermione looked up from the pages of the book as she finished reading, and the group was silent.

“Could we cast it correctly?” asked Professor McGonagall anxiously.

“We’re quite sure, yes, but there is a small chance this might not work.” replied a Healer.

“But this is the best chance we have, right?” said Draco quietly. Hermione nodded.

“Yes,” confirmed Madam Pomfrey. “Everything else we were researching is moving too slowly. If we delay for much longer Mr. Potter’s condition may deteriorate, no matter the   
stasis spells or any potions.” Draco clenched his jaw.

“Do it, then.” he said. “I’ll link with him.”

“Are you sure?” asked a Healer, her face etched with concern. “This is permanent, and the spell may have effects that we don’t know of, it’s such an unknown spell.” Draco exhaled, catching Hermione’s eye, then Ron’s. They both looked worried, apprehensive.

Draco tore his gaze away from them to look again at Harry’s motionless form on the bed, aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He knew if he did this, things would be different.   
They’d be linked. Some part of him was scared of that, of the future, especially with this, but... it was Harry.

“Yes, I’m sure.” said Draco firmly.

….

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up was the peculiar sensation. Just barely there, but it felt like he had two heartbeats. Felt like they were both in time together, beating together.

He sat up slowly. Where was he? And why? Harry squinted, looking with blurry vision for his glasses. And there, a streak of silver sitting somewhere next to him. He reached out a hand and fumbled for them, feeling a pang of relief as his fingers touched the familiar metal wires and he put on his glasses, blinking.

He was in the hospital wing, laying on a bed. It looked as if it were mid-morning, judging by the bright light streaming in from the high windows.

“Harry!”

He turned and saw Hermione running towards him, and she engulfed him in a tight hug. He returned it, slightly baffled.

“Hey, Hermione.” he replied, noticing for the first time the boy lying on the bed next to him. Draco. He looked as if he were sleeping, but there were dark circles under his eyes.   
Harry tried to get out of bed, but as he stood up a rush of dizziness went to him head and he wobbled.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, sit down, sit down,” said Madam Pomfrey, bustling over from a group of people Harry hadn’t seen. They looked like Healers, with the St Mungo’s wand and bone cross on their robes, and they followed the hospital wing matron over to Harry’s bed.

“What-” began Harry, confused, but Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue at him.

“I know you have questions, dear, but Ms. Granger will explain everything after I attend to you. Now, drink this. Go on, that’s it.” Harry, slightly befuddled, accepted the frothing goblet of potion and dutifully drank it, wincing a bit at the taste. Like smoke, and it tingled as it went down his throat.

“What do you remember, Harry?” asked Hermione, and he saw Ron enter behind her, his face splitting in a wide grin.

“Hey, mate, you’re awake!” he said jubilantly, joining Hermione by Harry’s bedside.

“Hey, Ron,” replied Harry, glad to see his best mate but still confused. “What-”

“I’ll explain, Harry, listen.” said Hermione somewhat impatiently, and Harry closed his mouth and listened. She repeated her question, and Harry frowned.

“Well, I remember leaving the Great Hall with Draco,” he said slowly, glancing over at the sleeping blond nearby. “And...and going down to Potions. We were talking about his mother, he’d gotten a letter from her…” Hermione nodded, but her expression told Harry he was still missing something. Harry thought back, and suddenly he knew. “Oh. That Ravenclaw boy who tried to curse Draco, but it hit me instead.” he said finally, and Ron nodded.

“You almost died, mate. If it wasn’t for Draco’s stasis spell and Parvati going to get Professor Athme, you might’ve not made it up to the hospital wing.” Ron said gravely, and with an involuntary shudder Harry recalled the burning pain that had swept through him. He touched a cautious hand to his chest, reassuring himself that all was well despite the memory of the agony.

“What happened after that?” Harry asked.

“They detained Johnson- the Ravenclaw boy- and found out the spell he’d used. It was an old curse, with no clear countercurse. And he was also the one who’d cursed Draco’s broom, Daphne told me about that incident. Apparently Johnson said his parents were murdered by Death Eaters. He’s kind of mad with grief, and that’s why he did it.” said Hermione with a slightly ill expression.

“So they brought you up to the hospital wing, you were unconscious from the pain, I think. And the spell was still going on, they didn’t know how to stop it. You were in here for two days while they researched remedies, because nothing was working except one Pain-Relieving potion, but it didn’t get rid of all of the pain.” finished Ron.

“Draco wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat,” added Hermione quietly. “He just stayed next to you.” They all glanced over at him, and Harry frowned.

“But why is he-”

“So,” Hermione pressed on. “We finally discovered-”

“ _you_ discovered,” interjected Ron, looking at Hermione, who smiled and flapped her hand.

“Yes, well, we found a spell that could save you. It would-has- linked your heart and health with that of a healthy person, and restored your health, getting rid of the curse. But it’s irremovable, and now whatever happens to one of you health-wise, injuries, diseases, etcetera, will happen to the other person as well. In this case, you and-”

“Draco? That’s his heartbeat I can feel?” said Harry, shocked.

“Yes. He volunteered.” replied Hermione.

“Is he alright?” asked Harry with concern, glancing again over at him. Hermione smiled a little.

“Yes. After they cast the spell he passed out, but the Healers said it was just his lack of sleep and energy combined with the initial energy drainage from the spell. He’s just sleeping it off.” she said, and Harry exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Wow,” he said faintly. “Well, thank you, Hermione. And thanks to all of you,” he added to the knot of Healers standing a little farther from them, and they smiled and nodded at him. And thank you, Draco, Harry added silently.

“Hey Hermione, what happened to that Ravenclaw boy?” asked Ron, frowning.

“Mr. Johnson has been expelled,” said the Headmistress gravely, appearing behind them. “And I have spoken to the students. Anyone who does anything like this again will also be expelled.” Ron nodded mutely, looking intimidated by the presence of the Headmistress. “Good to see you back with us, Potter.” McGonagall said more warmly, and Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Headmistress.” he replied, and the Headmistress nodded at them once more before striding off to speak with the Healers with Madam Pomfrey over in the corner.

Harry’s hand was pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. And Draco’s. It was so odd. But comforting at the same time. And that Draco had done this for him, agreed to this forever connection, made Harry feel honored, touched.

“Wait,” he said suddenly as a thought struck him. “So if one of us dies-”

“You both die,” finished Hermione seriously, and Harry was silent.

So now he and Draco were dependent on each other. Harry was doubly glad that the war was over, now, because going into those kinds of situations with someone else’s life depending on his, literally depending on his...it was different.

But not unfamiliar. After all, if he thought about it the outcome of the war had depended on him, partly. If he had truly died that day when Voldemort had killed the piece of his soul that lived in Harry, countless more people would have died in Voldemort’s dark reign because of it.

“Harry?”

“What?” he said vaguely, looking up at Hermione and getting the impression that he’d missed something she’d said while being lost in his thoughts.

“Food,” replied Ron, nodding to the tray brought by Madam Pomfrey.

“Eat up, Mr. Potter, you were unconscious for two days.” she said briskly as she set down the tray, and Harry nodded, suddenly feeling the ache of hunger in his stomach. He glanced over again at the sleeping Draco, and Madam Pomfrey followed his gaze. “Don’t worry about Mr. Malfoy, he should wake up soon. He’s only sleeping, my dear,” she said warmly, and Harry nodded again, a little embarrassed, before busying himself with the food and his friends.

 _I know he’s alright,_ thought Harry. _I can feel his heartbeat in my chest._


	20. Chapter 20

Draco’s eyes fluttered open. White ceiling, high-set windows lit with afternoon sunshine, the smoky smell of Healing Potion, the low murmur of voices...the Hospital Wing.

Draco bolted upright, looking around for Harry, and stopped dead when he saw him not five feet away, on a hospital bed, sitting up and looking relatively well as he talked with Ron and Hermione. Draco sighed in relief, pressing a tentative hand to his chest. It had worked. He could feel…two hearts beating, very close in time but still distinguishable. It was extremely odd, but weirdly comforting as well. 

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed as he saw him, and Ron and Hermione turned round. “You’re awake?”

“It worked,” Draco said, a slight tone of wonder in his voice. Hermione nodded, looking between Draco and Harry, who didn’t take their eyes off of each other.

“You passed out, though.” Hermione said with amusement, and Draco ignored her. He got out of the hospital bed and walked over to Harry, who stood up to meet him with a small smile.

Draco raised his hand and slapped him across the face.

“You absolute _imbecile!_ ” he exclaimed. “Why the fuck did you jump in front of me? Why were you so extraordinarily stupid?” A small part of his brain registered and filed away the fact that his own cheek was stinging as well. Curious.

Harry blinked. “Er. Because I didn’t want it to hit you?” he said, and Draco rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Well, why didn’t you use your wand?” he snapped. “Only a naïve git would willingly make contact with an unknown curse.” Harry shrugged.

“Wasn’t time,” he said, sounding equal parts confused and amused. Draco clenched his jaw, suddenly aware that everyone in the Hospital Wing was watching them and maybe this was not the place for an argument.

“Well don’t ever do that again,” Draco bit out. You scared the shit out of me.

“You’re welcome,” said Harry placidly, picking up and biting into a croissant. Draco narrowed his eyes and huffed but shoved him over and sat down next to him, plucking the pastry from his fingers and eating it himself.

Hermione made a vague excuse and dragged Ron away and out of the Hospital Wing, leaving the two of them to sit in silence.

“You are alright, right?” asked Draco quietly. Harry glanced at him.

“Yes. I’m alright.” he replied softly. “Sorry for scaring you.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re the one who just went through two days of pain because of me. I’m sorry.” mumbled Draco, and Harry leaned into him, warming his side.

“It wasn’t your fault.” he said. “I know you think it is, but it wasn’t.” Draco didn’t say anything. Harry was wrong about that, but Draco didn’t want to argue about this again. Right now he just wanted to sit with his boyfriend and enjoy the fact that Harry wasn’t dead or still unconscious.

“Alright, Mr. Potter. One last vitals check and you’re good to go.” said Madam Pomfrey, bustling over. Harry nodded and she waved and flicked her wand, nodding in approval as a blue light seemed to glow from Harry’s chest, and Draco’s as well. Draco touched the spot where the light was emitting from. It was a little cold. “That’s because you two are linked, dear.” explained Madam Pomfrey, and Draco nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” he said absentmindedly.

“Well, have a good rest of your day, you two. And Mr. Malfoy, I’d appreciate it if you refrained from hitting my patients next time.” she chided, and Draco felt his cheeks warm a little.

“Alright. Sorry.” he muttered, and with a last motherly smile the hospital wing matron bustled off. Harry stood up and Draco followed him out of the hospital wing.

“Do we have classes today?” asked Harry, his hand slipping into Draco’s as they walked through the halls.

“No, it’s still the weekend.” Draco replied. “Common room?”

“Yeah.”

Draco found himself glancing over at Harry every minute or so, wanting to reassure himself again and again that he was alright. That he wasn’t in pain. That-

“What?” murmured Harry softly as they stopped in front of the red dragon portrait.

“Oh,” said Draco, blushing. “Nothing.”

“Fanged Geranium.” Harry said, with a little smile at Draco that made his heart- well, both of their hearts- beat a little faster. Harry smirked like he knew why as they went through the common room, and Draco blushed even more, trying furiously not to. _Think of other things. Like the pustule-colored orange walls of this damn common room. Think of Quidditch. Pumpkins. Harry. No, not Harry. Inkpots._

“Hey, Harry. How are you?” said Dean Thomas as he came out of their dorm. Harry grinned.

“Hey, Dean I’m alright now.” he replied, and Thomas offered a smile to Draco as well as they passed, and Draco returned it hesitantly. He and Harry entered the dorm, Harry still keeping a firm grip on his hand. They went over to Draco’s bed, and Harry picked up a quill laying forgotten on his bedside table.

“Your quills are always so fancy,” he said, meeting Draco’s eyes with that wonderful smile, and before he could comprehend what he was doing Draco leaned forward and kissed him. Threaded his fingers through that beautiful, messy dark hair and pulled him closer. Reveled in the taste of vanilla that swept through his mouth. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed kissing Harry. Snogging him properly, being able to take their time. It was like a spark, and Harry was the wind that coaxed him into a wildfire.

They broke apart, and Draco flushed more when he noticed that somehow he’d made his way to Harry’s lap, and Harry’s hands were fitted around his waist.

“Missed me?” said Harry, poker-faced, and Draco scowled.

“No,” he replied snidely, and Harry chuckled, his hands moving to Draco’s neck and drawing him back down and pressing their lips together. Draco lost himself gladly in the  
kissing, the sensations that made his brain go fuzzy.

“You sure you didn’t miss me?” said Harry again when they drew apart, smirking, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“I think you know my answer to that.”

“You did miss me, I knew it.” Harry joked.

“Obviously.” drawled Draco. “Honestly Harry, they told me you were smart.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one, actually,” said Draco, and Harry laughed.

….

_Dear Harry,_

_Teddy misses you lots. He keeps asking even now where Uncle Harry’s gone. Thanks for your last letter, Teddy liked the toy you got him for Christmas. He would love it if you came to visit for a weekend. If you think you can- if not, that’s alright. Hope you’re having a good school year._

_Andromeda and Teddy_

Harry smiled to himself as he read the letter, his fingers grazing over Teddy’s near-ineligible signature, the ink splattered all around it. He would love to visit them. It would be a nice change.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Draco, eyes watching Harry curiously.

“Andromeda sent me a letter.” Harry explained, passing it over to Draco, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, reading the book that Hermione had gotten him for Christmas.

“She wants you to visit?” Draco said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” replied Harry, stopping when he was struck by an idea. “Hey- you said your mother and Andromeda were reconciled, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What if we visited together? You could see your mom, and meet Andromeda and Teddy. And I could see Andromeda and Teddy. And we could tell them about- well- us.” Harry suggested, plunking down next to him on the bed. Draco tilted his head.

“We could,” he said slowly, and Harry snickered.

“You sound very unenthusiastic.”

“Shut up, Potty.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m just not looking forward to my mother’s interrogation. She’ll go round the twist when I tell her. Probably start planning the wedding.” Harry snorted.

“But you think she’ll be alright with it?” he asked, a little anxiously.

“I think so,” Draco mused. “She’ll just be very surprised and want to know how it happened. Hence the interrogation.” Harry smiled.

Twenty minutes later they were still up in their dorm, and Harry decided now was a good a time as any to try to broach the topic with Draco. He took a deep breath and prayed silently that this wouldn’t be a complete fiasco.

“So,” Harry began.

“So what?” replied Draco impatiently. “That better be a so-I’m-done-with-these-dumb- braids and not a so-I-have-to-restart-for-the-fifth-time.” Harry snorted.

Harry had cajoled Draco into agreeing to let Harry braid his hair again. Harry mostly liked doing this because he could play with Draco’s hair, which was pretty (not that he’d ever say that to Draco’s face) and soft, and he always found himself running his fingers through the blond strands.

“Actually, neither.” said Harry slightly nervously, finishing the (decent) french braid and tying it off with a hair tie, his fingers resting at the base of Draco’s neck. Amelie had gotten him a pack of hair ties for Christmas, so Daphne could teach Harry how to braid Draco’s hair. Or so Amelie had said. “It’s more of a so, can we talk about you blaming yourself for every single bad thing that stems from the war?”

Draco stilled beneath Harry’s fingertips, his shoulders hunching up defensively.

“Why do we have to talk about it?” he replied sharply.

“Because I hate to see you hating yourself.” said Harry softly, feeling Draco’s heartbeat increase. Though from anger, or annoyance, or something else, Harry couldn’t tell. Their bodies might have been magically linked, but their minds and emotions were not.

“You can’t do anything about it,” Draco said quietly, but there was a steel edge in his voice. “The fact is that I did horrible things and I was a coward. I’m the reason Death Eaters broke into this school, I’m the reason Dumbledore is dead, what I did sparked everything into happening.” Harry’s heart broke a little to hear Draco’s voice get steadily quieter and fill with despair.

“And,” Draco went on, shaking, “I- I tortured people. I could’ve done better, done more to help, so many people died, Harry. There were bodies on the floor of my house. There were people locked in the dungeons of my house. And I had to go about like they weren’t there.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, wanting to offer some comfort. He felt horrible now, for bringing this up again and again when it caused Draco so much pain to relive it. But at the same time, he was glad that Draco was talking about it and not bottling it up inside of him, letting the fear turn to self-loathing like he’d been doing before.

“But you did help,” Harry whispered gently. “You helped Luna, you gave her food and things. And you helped me when I got captured.” Draco shook his head.

“I could’ve done more,” he repeated, but sank backwards into Harry’s embrace.

“Just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you did nothing.” murmured Harry. “You did what you could. Maybe you’ve made some bad decisions, but that’s life. And Dumbledore set up his own death. He and Snape talked, decided Snape would be the one to do it. You didn’t cause his death.”

“But if I hadn’t let my aunt and the others inside the school-”

“Okay, yes, you fixed the Vanishing Cabinet. That maybe wasn’t a great idea. But if you hadn’t, you and your family would have died. You were scared. I get that. But it all comes back to Voldemort. You wouldn’t have done any bad things just by yourself, if he hadn’t existed, right? You aren’t an evil person. Just a normal person, pushed into bad situations and bad decisions.”

Draco let out a little sigh. “But not being a bad person doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“I’m not saying it does,” said Harry softly. “But you blame yourself for everything when that’s not at all fair to you. You aren’t Voldemort-” Draco shivered- “and you didn’t start the war. It would have started with or without you. People would have died with or without you.” Draco let out a shaky breath.

“I guess I see your point.” he said quietly. There was a silence. “I should find a better way to deal with it.”

Harry felt a small wave of relief that Draco was acknowledging it, and tightened his arms around Draco briefly, letting him know he’s there for him.

“Anything I can do,” Harry whispered. “Let me know.”

“Stay?”

“Always.”

And so they sat there on the ground, Draco’s back against Harry’s chest, hearts beating in time. Together.

….

Draco stood in the window, watching the dark shape of the school owl he’d chosen get farther and farther away until it melted into the ever-darkening dusky sky.

He and Harry were in the Owlery, each sending their respective letters- Draco to his mother- and Harry to Andromeda. Both of them had written a proposal to visit together.

Even though Draco had complained about being questioned by his mother about his relationship, he did miss her. And if he was honest, he wouldn’t mind if she did talk with him about it. It had been so long since they’d properly talked about anything, really. And he really was grateful for her.

“Done?” said Harry, coming up to stand next to Draco. He had a school owl of his own perched on his forearm, a dark-feathered, yellow-eyed bird that hooted disdainfully at Draco. With sudden flaps the owl flew off, the white envelope clutched in its beak.

“Yeah.” replied Draco. On a sudden desire he reached up and drew Harry’s face down to his, pressing his lips to Harry’s. He was intoxicating. He was perfect. Harry.

After what seemed like a glorious eternity, they drew apart, still close enough to share breaths.

“You okay?” murmured Harry, his eyes searching Draco’s. Draco knew what he was asking about- their discussion from earlier.

“Yes.” said Draco softly. “I’m fine.” It had shaken him when Harry had so openly broached the things that made up his nightmares, his foundation. But the most secret part of him had recognized the truth in Harry’s words. He’d been denying it for so long, convinced that what he was doing was the only way to pay for the past. And that he needed to pay for  
the past.

But as they’d walked to the Owlery, he’d made a promise to himself. I’ll be a better person now. In memory of the past, in honor of the past, I will do better. Be the person I want to be. Make my own choices.

He and Harry had spoken of this before, on the night when they’d first gotten together. Then, Draco had been worse off, not wanting to let himself have any joyful things in life, thinking he didn’t deserve them. And being at Hogwarts and having everything happen had brought back his guilty feelings and the desperate need to atone for something.

And now… now he recognized those emotions, he still felt them, but Harry was right. As usual. There was a better way to cope with it. He had to accept himself, accept his past, even if he was still ashamed of it. All of his past. Mistakes, fears, everything. He couldn’t change anything that happened, but he could make sure it didn’t happen again. So he had promised.

He ran his fingers over the vivid colors inked over his scar. The phoenix tattoo. He thought of it as a symbol. A symbol of how he’d changed, a symbol of hope. Of better things. Just like how Dumbledore’s phoenix, that day in the clearing, had reminded him that just because there was dark in the world didn’t mean it blotted out the light as well.

He hadn’t gone back to that clearing since he’d returned to Hogwarts, and he didn’t intend to. He didn’t need too anymore.

“Draco?”

“What?” Draco blinked and looked at Harry, who was smiling softly.

“You were in your own world for a moment there,” Harry teased, and Draco bit his lip.

“Sorry,” he replied, but Harry shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Should we go?” Draco said, somewhat unenthusiastically. It was so peaceful up here, it was just them and the forest. No people, no noise.

“We probably should. But I don’t really want to. It’s so...quiet. Calm.” admitted Harry, leaning against the window, and Draco smiled, glad Harry shared his sentiments.

“Yeah.” Draco said softly. They stood in an easy silence for a little while longer, watching the paintbrush strokes of color across the sky, before Harry turned and took Draco’s hand, and they left the Owlery.

Harry stumbled as they went down the steps, knocking his knee into the stone wall, and Draco felt the hard bang and the resulting throb on his own knee.

“Thanks,” he said dryly, and Harry smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry.” He squeezed Draco’s hand gently. Draco turned his head away to hide his smile as they entered the castle again, making their way to the Great Hall. The murmur of far away conversation gradually grew louder as they approached, and when they entered there was a swell of noise.

 _Probably because of two things,_ thought Draco, trying very hard to ignore every single person’s eyes on them as they went to the eighth year table. _The fact that we’re us, and holding hands, and the fact that this is the first time Harry’s been seen out of the hospital wing in two days._

“Hey,” greeted Hermione as they sat down across from her and Ron. “Where were you?”

“Owlery,” said Draco. “It was nice to be away from-” he waved his hand vaguely. “All that.”

“That’s just a day in the life of Harry, mate.” replied Ron with a note of amusement in his voice, making Harry roll his eyes.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. Draco chuckled and leaned into him briefly. Truth be told he didn’t mind so much. Harry was with him, that made everything better. Not that he’d ever tell Harry that. Gryffindor egos were sadly prone to overinflating, and his boyfriend, while better than most, was no exception. Draco chuckled again. Then again, Draco couldn’t belittle him for that, not when Draco was who he was.

“What?” asked Harry curiously, picking up a roll.

“Nothing.” replied Draco, schooling his features into a normal façade. Harry eyed him suspiciously before beginning a conversation with Ron. Draco caught Hermione’s inquisitive eye and sent her a quick smirk and a shrug. She shook her head slightly and returned her attention to her plate.

Draco sighed and began to eat, pausing briefly when Dean Thomas sat next to him.

“Hey,” he said, and Draco blinked at him.

“Hey,” he replied haltingly. Thomas had never been overly friendly with him, and vice versa. Just politeness, really. Never friends.

But maybe that could change, mused Draco. Maybe they could be friends. He glanced over at Weasley-no, Ron, and Hermione. Then Harry, still holding his hand beneath the table. His Harry. His messy-haired, green-eyed, sweet, brave, boyfriend.

After all, Gryffindors weren’t all bad.

….

With a pop, Harry and Draco materialized in front of Andromeda’s house. Harry had guided them this time, since Draco had never been to Andromeda’s house, let alone met her. 

The window was open, and Harry could hear the faint sounds of a baby gurgling. The brisk wind rustled through the yellow grasses behind the house. Harry glanced over at Draco.  
It was two weeks after Harry had left the hospital wing, two weeks since they’d planned the visit with Andromeda and Narcissa. Harry was slightly apprehensive, and so was Draco- he could tell because the nervous twisting in his stomach had been doubled.

“Shall we?” said Harry, and Draco huffed out a breath, watching it steam in the cold air. His hand was warm and familiar in Harry’s.

“Yeah,” Draco replied, and they started up the cobblestone walkway to the front door. Harry knocked. A few seconds later the door flew opened and Andromeda was there in front of them.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “And you must be Draco.” She hugged him too, and Harry stifled a chuckle at Draco’s surprised face. Physical affection probably wasn’t the most prominent thing in the Malfoy family. “Come in,” Andromeda said, standing back and letting them enter.

Inside, the temperature was much warmer, and Harry shed his coat. Soon, though, his eyes were drawn to the pale woman sitting in an armchair, a turquoise-haired baby on her lap. Narcissa Malfoy.

She smiled widely and set Teddy on the sofa next to her before standing gracefully and rushing to embrace Draco, who returned her hug with much more comfort than he had Andromeda’s.

“Hi, Mother,” Draco said. “You know Harry.”

“Lovely to see you again, Mr. Potter.” she said smoothly, and Harry blinked.

“Oh- er- Harry’s fine.” he said tentatively, and she smiled.

“Draco, darling, this is my sister. Andromeda.” She led him back over to Andromeda, and Harry took the opportunity to go pick up Teddy, who exclaimed when he saw Harry and  
lifted his chubby arms. Harry smiled.

“Hey, Teddy.” he said, mussing the baby’s hair gently.

“Harry,” said Teddy, sticking his thumb in his mouth, and Harry grinned even more. When he’d left in September Teddy hadn’t began talking yet.

“That’s Teddy, I presume?” said Draco from behind him, and Harry picked up the baby and turned around.

“Yeah. Want to hold him?” offered Harry, knowing full well Draco didn’t. But under his mother’s eyes, Draco nodded unenthusiastically. Harry chuckled and passed him over, enjoying Draco’s wide eyes and slight panic as he held Teddy. Soon Harry took pity on him and took the baby from him, passing him over to Andromeda. They all sat down, Andromeda with Teddy, Draco with Narcissa, and Harry in an armchair.

The two women took turns questioning the two boys about school, and their exchange trip. They answered patiently, exchanging glances every now and then. Harry itched to go sit next to Draco, but he refrained. At least until they told Narcissa and Andromeda.

“So how did you two become friends?” asked Narcissa politely, her curious grey eyes so like Draco’s. Harry looked pointedly at Draco, who coughed and started to talk. They’d agreed it was probably better for him to explain it to his mother.

“Well,” said Draco slowly, adjusting the collar of his sweater. He always does that when he was nervous, thought Harry amusedly. “Daphne got me to, er, apologize to Harry and his friends. And we started hanging out.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Andromeda warmly.

“You went on the exchange trip as well, did you not?” asked Narcissa, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, we were in the same dorm at Beauxbatons.” Harry said.

“Actually,” announced Draco suddenly, his hands white-knuckled in his lap. “Harry and I...we’re, well, we’re dating.” The two women blinked, looking between Harry and Draco with sudden understanding in their eyes.

“I see,” said Narcissa, smiling gently. “I’m glad you two have overcome your differences.” Harry exhaled in relief while Andromeda nodded and smiled.

“Come help me with lunch, Harry,” said Andromeda, standing up, and Harry exchanged a smirk with Draco as he followed Andromeda, both of them knowing what was up.

Two hours later they went outside, having finished their goodbyes.

“Merlin,” muttered Draco once the door was closed behind them. “I thought they’d never stop asking all those damn questions.” Harry snorted.

“Me either,” he said wryly. Andromeda had taken almost half an hour to make lunch because she had been asking him so many questions. It had been a little exasperating, but kind of sweet. Motherly, in a way.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, and they Apparated back to Hogwarts. There was fresh snow on the grounds, making everything bright and beautiful, and Harry inhaled the cold air with relish. Draco snickered, pointing at a group of distant figures by the lake, their shrieks echoing across the water.

“I think that’s Ron and Hermione,” Draco said with amusement. Harry squinted, and he could make out a lanky, red-headed boy in a maroon sweater being chased by a brown-haired girl in a knitted hat, weaving in and out of the other eighth years. Harry chuckled, and they began walking towards them, feet slipping on the snow.

“I liked Andromeda,” said Draco thoughtfully. “Teddy, too. Though it’s weird to think I have a nephew. Makes me feel old.” Harry grinned.

“Yeah. Godfather sounds older than uncle, though.” he remarked with amusement. Draco smirked.

“True. Harry Potter, the middle-aged man.” He snickered and Harry rolled his eyes with a smile. They were nearly at the spot where most of their fellow eighth years were fighting in the snow. It reminded him of that day at Beauxbatons, when they’d had a snowball fight, and Draco had fallen on him. He glanced over at Draco, who met his gaze with a rakish smile, his grey eyes bright and clear. He could tell Draco was remembering that day too.

“We should’ve kissed that day,” mused Draco, and Harry grinned. He’d wanted to, he remembered that much. The rest of the memory from that day was mostly a blur- warm skin, cold snow, how beautiful Draco had looked. Just like he did now.

Harry turned and framed Draco’s face with his hands before leaning forward and pressing their lips together, an electric buzz sparking through him at the touch. Harry could feel his heartbeat- their heartbeats- speeding up. It never failed to amaze him how amazing it felt to kiss Draco, every time. They drew apart, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“I love you.” he said, and Draco’s answering smile was wonderful. To think that he could make anyone so happy, let alone Draco Malfoy. His gorgeous, charming, witty boyfriend.

“I love you too,” Draco replied softly. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand, and Draco let him, with a roll of his eyes. And they walked back to the castle, hands linked. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! It's done! I hoped you liked my (quite) fluffy fic and it's small side of angst. Please feel free to leave a comment, or a kudos, they really make my whole week! :) i love you all <3


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